


Ezio Wore a Dress Once: The Proposal AU No One Asked For

by babbyspanch, saltslimes



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Barista Desmond, Ezio is Betty White, Fake Marriage, First Kiss, M/M, coffee shop AU, proposal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-04-23 00:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4855835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbyspanch/pseuds/babbyspanch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltslimes/pseuds/saltslimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Detailed Account of Shaun Hastings’ Deportation Spiral. Or: The story of how Desmond and Shaun almost got fake married and also got real in love, Altair threatened several people, Ezio was a hero and a Grandpa, and nobody was actually in a jazz band (but we can dream). </p>
<p>Shaun is a high powered New York lawyer with a heart of cold, Desmond is a barista in the building he works in. When Shaun realizes he's about to get deported, his only hope is a fake marriage. Unfortunately, they're going to have to make it look pretty convincing if it's going to work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coffee is the Good Sludge that I am After

The hiss of the steamer was like music to Desmond's ears. He couldn't say barista was ever his dream job, but it was close enough. Making coffee was an art, at least, it could be. And as with any art, there were always those who didn't appreciate it.

One of them had just breezed through the door on his cell and joined the line. Shaun Hastings, rich British bastard who worked many floors up, had been a thorn in Desmond's side for years for no reason except that he never, ever, ordered coffee. Tea, every time, usually coupled with a complaint about how terrible this American "sludge" was. Originally Desmond had almost thought he was cute. And Shaun had too, apparently, because he'd slid his card across the counter before insulting him by ordering tea. But now they were both aware that the best relationship was quiet friendly antagonism. 

Shaun tugged on his pin-striped vest and adjusted his tie with a sharp, deliberate movement. Sliding into line behind a woman in a sensible pencil skirt, Desmond watched Shaun look up at the counter quickly, mouth twisting as he saw who was working today. If Shaun had at one time viewed Desmond as no more than a coffee jockey, by now it was clear he genuinely disliked Desmond, and probably spent his spare time imagining ways of getting him fired. Desmond grinned. Nothing broke up the monotony of slinging lattes quite like some good ol’ fashioned workplace hostility. Not that he and Shaun were colleagues. Shaun would probably be furious at the mere insinuation.

As the line moved up Shaun pulled his phone out and answered a call. Desmond watched his already irritated expression turn to one of genuine anger. Clearly it wasn't a good news phone call. Maybe his snooty rich boy toy broke up with him. Not that Desmond had ever seen him with one, but he was imagined that was Shaun's style.

He almost dropped a latte trying to overhear what had Shaun's British panties in such a twist and then he decided to just give up and mind his own business. Sure, eavesdropping privileges were one of the best perks of the job (he knew gossip from four different law firms) but every perk has its limits. Besides, from the way Shaun kept running a hand through his smug blonde hair, it was probably something dry and sad, instead of scandalous and juicy. And there was no fun in that.

"What do you _mean_ deported? I'm from fucking _Britain_ I'm not about to bomb the country. We _made_ you." Shaun closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Desmond watched him cast his gaze around, and then, suddenly, lock eyes with him. Desmond fumbled with a lid, spilling foam over the counter.  "Hang on-- hang on--! If I'm about to be married-- does that change anything?" he heard Shaun say. Desmond quickly cleaned up the mess and slid the last drink across the counter. Shaun stepped up to take their place, phone still pressed to his ear. Desmond leaned on the counter, propped up on his elbows. This week he'd replaced all the in house tea with off brand Walmart garbage as a joke, but he was regretting it a little, seeing that Shaun was already in a yelling mood, and his face was already blotched with angry color.

"I'm-yes he's real! Here. I'll put him on now!" Shaun got a frantic look in his eye and shoved the phone to Desmond. He mouthed furiously, clasped his hands together and flat out begged-- well mimed begging. Desmond stared at him in horror, but only for a moment. He'd been handed the phone on childhood prank calls enough times to know you never let on if the previous speaker was lying.

"Baby, who am I talking to?" He asked, just loud enough that it could be heard by the person on the other end, cradling the phone between ear and shoulder as he started making what was truly going to be a shitty cup of tea.

Shaun sagged, mouth falling into an almost-smile before seeming to catch himself. "The bloody immigration office-- they don't believe we're about to get married. They’re threatening to send me back to the UK in a few weeks." Desmond slid over his tea. Shaun eyed it dubiously.

"Uhh, do you guys need a pic of the ring or something? My email? You wanna call my parents?" Desmond asked. He held back a laugh because Shaun, perfect hair and glasses Shaun who dares complain about Desmond's hot drinks and never has so much as a wrinkle on his suit, has dug himself into a hole he's never getting out of, and Desmond got to watch him drown. It's like divine retribution. He handed the phone back and told Shaun, "He wants to talk to you again."

As Shaun took the phone back and pressed it to his ear, Desmond plucked his cloth from under the table and went to wipe down the other counter, to make it seem like maybe he wasn’t eavesdropping.

"I... Sure I'm sure we can meet sometime. If it's just procedure I understand," Shaun ground out. "Yes, I'm free on Thursday-- Hang on a moment." He turned to Desmond, "Des, darling, are you free Thursday to have lunch with the immigration people?"

Desmond, ever the foolish opportunist, silently rubbed his fingers against his thumb in the universal, "Not unless you pay me, Shaun darling," gesture. 

Shaun glared over the counter so hard Desmond was afraid one of the steamers would catch fire. His lips tightened and he nodded sharply before lifting the phone to his mouth again. "You're in luck, Des gets off his shift right before that." He scrawled an address down quickly and hung up, seeming to sag like all the strings keeping him up were snipped at once. Desmond watched him take a gulp of tea and then have to make a genuine effort not to spit it right back out. "What the fuck is _this,_ Miles?"

"Only the best teas here," Desmond drawled, grinning. "I hope you understood that I expect to be paid if you want me to lie to some-- if I heard correctly-- immigration officer? People actually go to jail for that you know."

Shaun set the offending tea on the counter carefully, and took a long breath in through his nose before he spoke. "And I hope you understand I'm not going to pay for that tea." He took another deep breath and smoothed his tie. "I will, however, pay you for you services rendered in fake marriage. Name your price."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.clickhole.com/quiz/are-you-addicted-coffee-2317


	2. Lucy We Got Some 'Splanin to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting with the rep from immigration goes about as horribly as everyone was expecting.

Shaun waited impatiently at a table for three in one of New York’s higher class restaurants. The ceilings were high and the gentle lull of a live string quartet soared through the huge room. Plush red carpet soaked up the footfalls of waiters who were rushing to and fro with plates delicately arranged with fine and rare ingredients

Shaun sat near the front of the room so he could keep an eye on the door for whenever his tardy fake boyfriend decided to show himself.

Shaun shifted one of the forks in front of him so it laid more evenly on the napkin. He glanced up as he heard the door open and locked eyes with Desmond.

Who was wearing his white hoodie and jeans.

What the bloody hell.

Shaun rose and quickly hurried over to Desmond, thanking the lord that he decided to wear a suit jacket on top of his nice dress shirt and tie.

"Miles, tell me right now you are wearing a shirt of some kind under that horrible hoodie." Shaun snarled as he ushered him quickly to their table. "What were you even thinking? Are you always an idiot or is it only around me?"

"I thought you were less rich than this! Or at least ate at cheap places! You come to my shitty work every day." Desmond let Shaun push him into a seat. Shaun saw him look down at the table setting and snorted when Desmond’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets from sheer panic.

Shaun then realized he was lying to immigration and going to go to jail. No job was worth totally getting shivved because no one respected you in prison because you were there for a gay fork disaster of epic proportions. He opened his mouth to call the whole thing off but the immigration worker bustled in and it was suddenly too late.

"Thank you so much for joining us for lunch, Ms. Stillman," Shaun said, faking an easy smile, as he reached over and offered his hand to shake. Ms. Stillman was a tall blonde woman who had a gaze far more deadly than any assassin. She wore a white dress shirt under a stiff grey blazer, long pants brushing the tops of her black pumps. Her hair was twisted up into a bun and she shook his hand like she meant business.

"Yeah, thanks for coming. It's just like Shaun to forget about the expiry on his work visa." Desmond said, and Shaun cast him a vicious look. Ms. Stillman gave them a pinched, pitying kind of smile. _Oh my god she already knows_ , Shaun thought.

Shaun laughed a little hollowly and reached over to grab Desmond's hand, squeezing it too hard. "Oh, you." He felt the bones in Desmond's hand grind a little at the pressure and a vindictive pleasure rose in him. "Always _so_ candid. He's right, though. Sometimes I get distracted. My work is very important to me and I can get too wrapped up into it."

"You're a lawyer-- correct?" Ms. Stillman asked, eyes narrowed, "That's a career path that takes a long time to climb. Especially to get to partner in a firm. Not something you would want to give up."

Shaun acted flattered and ignored the undertones of distrust in the question. "Yes, I'm proud of all my hard work, and very grateful for getting the promotion-- mostly because it will be easier to fund the wedding." He winked and pushed his shoulder into Desmond's 'jokingly'. It was more of a body check than anything.

"Oh yeah, Shaun is all traditional, insisting we have a big wedding and invite everyone's ancient relatives. Me, I would have just been happy going down to city hall. But no relationship is perfect, right?" Desmond put on a smug grin. _He’s toying with me,_ Shaun thought.

"I want it to be memorable for us, that's all." Shaun said, hoping that his tone suggested that they had this chat multiple times.

"Right." Ms. Stillman said, as she sipped from her water glass. She placed it on the table noiselessly and looked up to meet their eyes, first Shaun's and then Desmond's. "You two live separately still. Desmond, your apartment is quite the distance from Shaun's. How do you two have time to see each other between the distance and all the work?"

Shaun froze at the question and opened his mouth hesitantly.

"Shaun is a long distance kind of guy. He's been in a lot of overseas relationships, and we don't feel the need to be together 24/7. Plus we don't want the neighbours to think I'm a gold digger," Desmond laughed and opened his menu. His eyes started to go wide when he looked at the listed prices so Shaun made a grab for Stillman’s attention again.

"You should see the phone bill though," Shaun said, snapping out of his revere, and shot a sweet smile to Desmond, "I have to talk to him twice a day or I get a little... Ruthless in court."

Shaun shook out his napkin and picked a meal at random as the waiter arrived.

Ms. Stillman nodded and ordered a garden salad absentmindedly, "So he helps centre you? Desmond, what would you say Shaun helps you most within the relationship?" 

"Well I'm a barista, so he doesn't really help me with work. But he has been very... Supportive. Sometimes he's the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning.” Shaun was sure that couldn’t have been a lie. Some of Desmond’s pranks were too convoluted to be off the cuff.

Lucy nodded, somehow the action seemed softer than the nods she had given before, "that fits, yes."

They seemed to be having a different conversation than the one Shaun was trying to have, so he changed the topic.

"We have a pretty practical and honest relationship," Shaun said, "Desmond really thinks honesty is the best policy-- and it's really refreshing."

Desmond coughed into his water glass and Shaun looked at him with a frown. Honesty, the foundation of their relationship. Then he took a moment to be unnerved by Ms. Stillman’s worryingly thorough knowledge of both their lives. Why was he so willing to drag someone else down on his deportation spiral?

"Honesty _after_ we met, of course. Because on our first date he told me he played in a famous jazz band and I told him I was a fighter pilot."

"We'd played at a few gigs and I got a little over excited," Shaun said a little begrudgingly.

Ms. Stillman's salad was placed in front of her and she straightened, stabbing the crisp lettuce with her salad fork. "You two do realize that an engagement isn't going to cut it for your visa."

Desmond choked on a bite of pasta and Shaun coughed into a glass of water.

"We aren't just handing out green cards to anyone who promises they're committed to their boyfriend, Mr. Hastings. If I don't see a marriage certificate by the end of the month, you're going to be deported."

"Oh I... Yes we will just move up the wedding then, I suppose." Shaun said, back suddenly rim rod straight and his hand returning to the same tight pressure that was bound to hurt Desmond’s hand. _How are you going to get yourself out of this one,_ Hastings? Shaun thought _._ Desmond extricated his hand from Shaun's murderous grip.

" _Honey_ , what about my grandpa? He's supposed to fly up from Italy!" He asked.

"And if we leave it any later, _darling_ , I'll have to fly in from England." Shaun said, leveling a look at Desmond, hoping to convey that they'd talk later. "I'm sorry I left my paperwork so late, but we will have to compromise on things. And it is my fault." His teeth and jaw are tight, having to apologize was something Shaun has always hated.

"I cannot, absolutely _cannot,_ believe you," Desmond hissed. And before Ms. Stillman could say anything or Shaun could grab his hand again, he stood up and bolted from the restaurant.

"Oh shit... I have to go Ms. Stillman. Thank you so much for meeting with us, but I really have to go smooth things over." Shaun said, rising to his feet. He shook her hand and made to leave but stopped at the sound of her clipped voice.

"Mr. Hastings. You are aware I will also need an invitation to the ceremony, correct?"

Shaun nodded and cleared his throat, "Absolutely, ma'am."

"Good luck with your _fiancé_ , Mr. Hastings." 

"Thank you." Shaun smiled briefly before he rushed out the door.

"Shit," Shaun hissed and fell against the wall of the restaurant as he watched Desmond sped away on his motorcycle. He had to leave before Ms. Stillman found him loitering around outside so he hurried to the closest subway station and boarded a train letting the full force of his dilemma wash over him.

*************

Lots of people had really bad memories of hospitals. People Desmond knew. They avoided them at pretty much all costs. Desmond didn't really tie bad things to places. Plus, his first hospital experience outside of being born involved getting his lip sewn back together (awful) but then getting ice cream (awesome). So he had reserved judgement and basically continued to reserve it for the rest of his life. He nodded at the nurse and pushed the door open gently, in case his grandpa was asleep. He wasn't, but he was pretending.

"You know I can tell when you're faking, Grandpa Ezio," Desmond said slyly, dropping into the chair beside the bed.

Ezio cracked open an eye and huffed, his IV shaking a little with the movement, "Damn. It works on both your brother and your father. You're just a little too observant, Desmond." Sarcasm shone through in the last words. "Except, of course when it comes to Easter egg hunts. Then, you wander about for hours crying and refusing to eat any chocolate until you'd found them all." Ezio grinned and continued. "Altair ended up moving all of them into the open so you'd stop hunting."

"What? No way! He's never let me win anything my whole life!" Desmond laughed. After the conversation with his dad, he was just really happy his grandpa was awake. He didn't even seem that bad... That was the thing about him though. He always seemed okay, even if he wasn't. It was a family trait, he figured.

"He may have needed a little urging in that direction. But we let him think it was his idea." Ezio struggled a little into a sitting position. He glanced at Desmond, saw his worried expression and grinned. "Don't worry about me, I'll be well in time for my birthday party. Which I assume you will be coming to this year, unlike last year and the year before that."

Desmond opened his mouth and Ezio waved him quiet. "And don't give me that bullshit about work. You make time for family, no matter what." 

Desmond hung his head, half smiling.

"Yeah, I know. I was busier then. But I'll be there. Promise." Ezio's smile crinkled the scar that matched Desmond’s. Then Desmond's phone ringing broke the silence.

Ezio raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to answer that while you’re visiting with your ailing grandfather?"

"Course not," Desmond said, quickly rejecting the call. He didn't even have time to slide it back into his pocket before it was ringing again.

"Um, Grandpa I--" Desmond stopped at a wave of Ezio's hand.

"Just answer it. Must be important." Desmond picked up to the sound of Shaun, already complaining loudly into the speaker.

"Desmond what the _bloody flipping hell_ do you think you were doing abandoning me with Lucy like that! If she didn’t suspect us before, she certainly will now!" He paused, maybe for breath, and Desmond opened his mouth, but Shaun was off again. "How could you be that selfish? I can't believe you would do something like this. Actually maybe I can."

"I wasn't kidding you know. I actually had somewhere to be," Desmond said, leaning on the wall beside the door to Ezio's room. One of the nurses gave him an awkward smile as she passed.

"Really. Somewhere more important than where I'm _paying_ you to be?" He hissed. "This is her _job_ Desmond she's trained--trained! Do you know what she told me?" Shaun had an edge of hysteria in his voice, "she said ‘good luck with your _fiancé_ ’. Just like that. The sarcastic stress and everything."

"Yeah well if she tracks me down its fine, I'm not cheating on our fake relationship or anything," Desmond said. Don't get heated, he tried to remind himself but Shaun was practically snarling the words into the phone and it was pissing him off.

"Well it's good to know you aren't flirting with some bimbo while tossing my hard-earned life away! Really comforting Desmo--!"

Desmond felt bad hanging up on Shaun (kind of) but the alarm on his phone had just gone off. He ducked his head back into Ezio's room to tell him that he had to go to work, but found him actually asleep. On his way out of the hospital, he got an incredibly chilling text from Altair. More chilling even than: down one finger, come help.

It just read: who's Lucy Stillman?

Desmond stopped dead in his tracks.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Opgh10DYyHc


	3. I'll Make you an Offer you Can Refuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaun makes Desmond an offer he can refuse. Then, upon further reflection, Desmond realizes he really can't.

Desmond was wiping down the espresso machine when he looked up to see Shaun Hastings, persistent British liar, sweating in his coffee shop.

"Just come up here and say what you're going to say," Desmond called out.

Shaun squared his shoulders and marched over. "First of all, running out yesterday was really irresponsible and I feel like I can't pay you the full fifty dollars for that _madness_." Shaun leveled a glare at Desmond. "But I _am_ willing to pay a lot more if you accept this."

Shaun slid a small black velvet box over the counter and into Desmond's sight line. Desmond felt his eyebrows pull together. It was a jewelry box. He looked up at Shaun and his smug hair, and his stupid expensive suit, and decided he had had enough.

"Are you kidding? Actually marry you? Lying to immigration is one thing but my _family_? I don't want to go to jail, get it? Honestly? You should probably just give yourself up and go back to England," Desmond told him. Shaun crossed his arms, making the same face he had when Desmond first told him that if he was going to order tea, he should do it somewhere else.

"Just open the box. I'm willing to... Offer monetary compensation for your trouble." Shaun said. He seemed, at this point, more than ready to resort to blackmail. Realistically, he could get Desmond fired easily enough, although it wasn’t like coffee making was much of a career. "A large monetary compensation."

Desmond pushed the box back across the counter, so it almost fell off the edge of the counter.

"I'm not like... A marriage prostitute, ok? It's not happening. Buy some coffee or get out of my store."

Shaun snatched the box back before it could fall, "I'll buy some of your shitty coffee the day you actually do something _worthwhile_." He snarled and pulled out his wallet, yanking two twenties out he slammed them in front of Desmond. "Here's your pay."

Before leaving, Shaun slid a folded piece of paper across the counter. He didn't pick it up until he'd heard the door close. And when he did pick it up, a couple of young women walked into the buy coffee, so he slipped it into his apron pocket and went back to work.

As he was changing out of his uniform he pulled his phone out of his pocket and found a text from Altair. The same one was still hanging, unanswered, but there was a new one below it: _Looks like Grandpa is getting out of the hospital in time for his birthday. I guess you can tell me about whatever secret you’re keeping when I see you._

Desmond swallowed, clicked off his phone and shoved it into his pocket. His hand brushed Shaun’s note. He’d forgotten it was in there. In Shaun's messy scrawl (more befitting a doctor than a lawyer) was simply an offer. "12k. Marriage, three years, sleep with whomever you want."

Desmond balled up the paper, shoved it into his hoodie pocket and headed home.

******

Shaun was drinking. He didn't do it often but he figured tonight was an exceptional night in a lot of ways. So he sat in his plush leather arm chair, brass studded and worn into hugging him just the right way, gulping down whiskey that was far too expensive to be drinking so aggressively and wondering how he could have possibly fucked up so badly.

He looked like a distressed business man cliché, and he was well aware of this. Slumped in the chair with his shirt rumpled and his tie loose around his neck, he was the perfect image of a stockbroker who was managing too many portfolios after an unexpected crash.

He sighed and wished he had a fireplace to stare into like the businessmen on TV always had. But living in an apartment building came with certain limits and fireplaces were one of them. He couldn’t buy everything.

Including Desmond Miles’ hand in marriage, apparently.

Shaun frowned, "You’re in the thick of it now, mate," he mumbled aloud to himself. His phone, having worked its way out of his pocket, slid down the leather of the chair, hit the ground, and started ringing.

Shaun glared at the phone for several rings before he finally gave in and reached over to pick it up. He frowned at the unknown number and sighed, hitting answer a little clumsily.

"If this is a sales call let me _suggest_ you hang up now, because, frankly I have had a _shitastic_ day. And I'm about to be deported so pools or lawn cleaning services are not needed. Unless you can come to Britain. I'm also a little drunk." Shaun stops talking and waits for a response on the other end of the phone.

"Uh yeah, you probably won't be needing any toner in that case," the voice on the other end said, in a shockingly casual tone. Shaun let out a slurred hiss of irritation. "Wait, don't hang up!"

"Why shouldn't I? Is this a phone sex line? Are you trying to solicit _phone sex_ from me?" Shaun narrowed his eyes, "If someone told you to call me they were fucking lying to you. I'm not going to pay you. _Especially_ if someone named Desmond Miles gave you this number." Shaun paused, drumming his fingers on the armrest.

"This _is_ someone named Desmond Miles. I'm calling to accept your stupid proposal and your dumb ring," the voice said. Shaun froze. He’d thought there was something familiar--no--annoying about that voice. He didn’t say anything. "Shaun? Are you still there? I need the money, okay? I'll fake marry you."

"Alright but, how do you have my number?" Shaun demanded after a pause. "That's not fair. It's an imbalance of power in our relationship, Miles. It'll have to be rectified." The leather under his fingers was heating up and he moved them to a cooler spot.

Shaun could practically hear Desmond frowning into the phone. "I'll give it to you at the coffee shop tomorrow if you want it so badly. And I have _yours_ because you hit on me like an idiot when we first met."

"I thought I was very smooth. And you seemed very interested until I ordered tea." He paused again. Drinking made him a little slow on the uptake, "Wait. You're saying you'll do it then?" Shaun grinned, "Desmond you are the _light_ of my life. I'll be able to take over the firm. I’ve been working my ass off for this promotion, Desmond, this is why I _moved_ here." He realized a little belatedly he was revealing all of this to Desmond Miles of all people. "Right well. If the dinner was any guide to how the rest of this marriage will go I can’t say I have high hopes for you.”

“Yeah, who would?” Desmond scoffed. “I mean, you are hiring your barista to do… what, an escorts job?”

“Desmond, it’s going to be _fine_. But if you fuck this up like you did at lunch I'm not paying you in full."

"Yeah yeah, ‘Don't fuck it up Desmond.’ It’s not gonna be easy though." When Shaun made a drunk questioning noise, Desmond added, "Pretending to be in love with a total prick, that is."

He hung up at Shaun's first swear word, snickering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.cvplaza.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/arrogant-job-interview.png?02ac26


	4. I Said a Healthy Snack, Rebecca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen, yes, I understand that there is a lot of drama in our life right now but these colour schemes are NOT going to pick themselves

Shaun strode into the coffee shop the next day, hair slicked back and wearing an ironed suit. He was totally not making up for his disarray the night before by being a little more formal than normal. Not at all.

He tugged on his lapels before he looked over at the counter and saw Desmond talking to a woman. She was behind the counter, which probably meant she was a friend. Which meant the charade had to go up. Shaun sighed, closed his eyes a moment, and slipped into character.

"Des! Hi, _sweetheart_." He swept across the room and leaned over the counter. He dropped a quick kiss on Desmond's cheek, forcing the nerves down. 

Desmond looked momentarily frozen in shock. Then he seemed to remember how to move, because he swept off to fill a cup with hot water while he nodded to his friend and said, "Shaun, this is Rebecca. Becca, this is him."

"No way! This is the guy that you-- my best friend who hates commitment-- have gotten engaged to. Before even introducing me, I might add!" Rebecca squinted as she inspected him. Shaun was uncomfortably reminded of security officers at an airport.

"That's me," Shaun said, smiling toothily. "And trust me, I know all about the commitment issues-- I had to ask him three times."

As he laughed, he clunked his briefcase down on the counter and looked over at Desmond and his smile turned overly dreamy. "But I'm a lawyer. One of the top ones at this firm, and that's because I don't give up. Especially when I think I can win."

"That's _really_ romantic," Rebecca said sarcastically.

"Shut up about my soon to be husband or I'll stop giving you free muffins," Desmond told her from where he was finishing up pouring Shaun’s tea.

"You love me too much to ever do that," Rebecca's said slyly. Desmond slid Shaun's tea across the counter with a more genuine smile than Shaun was expecting. It looked almost… nice on his face.

"Maybe he loves me a little more," Shaun winked and picked up the tea, taking a sip. He then struggled to not spit it right back out. The bastard has put salt in it. He swallowed deliberately and held Desmond's gaze, "Tastes as amazing as it always does, _darling_."

"Tea is my specialty," Desmond said, grinning right back. Rebecca snorted.

"You literally hate tea. You got drunk and ranted to me about this guy who comes in and-- oh my god, you're him. It's you. You're the _tea asshole_."

Shaun opened his mouth and stared for a moment, unable to think of a single thing to say. Fury overtook his rational mind for a moment before he managed, "Awe, Des, you talk about me drunk?" He smiled and reached over to squeeze Desmond's shoulder, letting his hand linger there, grip vice like. "What can I say Rebecca? Opposites attract."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow skeptically. Shaun let his hand fall from Desmond’s shoulder.

As he took another sip of his tea and forced himself to swallow he asked, "So Rebecca. How are you today?"

As he waited for his answer he watched Desmond work, trying to make affection clear on his face. He had no idea of it was convincing or not. He didn’t have any good points of reference.

"If you're toying with Desmond as a joke or something, you better stop it now.” She said the instant Desmond went into the back, her tone was terrifyingly no nonsense while she glairing him down. Shaun felt relatively cowed until her expression softened into one of consideration, “Wait, ah shit. Maybe he's toying with you." Rebecca put her coffee down with a frown.

Shaun turned and painted an affronted look on his face. He had plenty of reference points for that. "How dare you. I- I love Desmond with every.... Every breath I take he- he means the _world_ to me and I-" Shaun groaned and slammed his cup down in frustration. What did people in love even say? This was too much. “Holy hell, I can _not_ do this. Desmond if you salt my tea again I will _castrate_ you!" He yells through the closed door. He turned back to Rebecca and crossed his arms, "You caught us. I'm getting deported if I don't get married. Desmond's agreed to help me out, I am _unfortunately_ not blackmailing him."

Rebecca threw back her head and laughed. _She looks like a hyena_ , Shaun thought a bit viciously.

"It would be funnier if you were blackmailing him," she said, through the laughter.

"I can hear your both. And he's paying me actually," Desmond called through the door. Rebecca gasped theatrically.

"No way, you never take bribes for anything, what changed?"

"I lost my dignity? My self-worth? My honour? Take your pick." Desmond suggested, setting a stack of cups on the counter.

"Either way I have gained a wonderful husband." Shaun says, loftily. "Listen, Rebecca, I don't know you. I have no idea if I can trust you with this. But if you don't betray my confidences on this I can pay you handsomely as well." Shaun met her eyes and waited for her answer. He wasn't about to let one person, (or several, apparently) ruin a career he had spent his life building. Rebecca snorted.

"Please. Unlike some people in the room, I still _have_ my dignity. You don't have to pay me not to snitch, I'm no asshole."

"You _are_ an asshole. You're just not a snitch," Desmond said, scrubbing at a bit of dirt on a mug.

"See? You have your darling fiancé's word. Anyways, I motor Des, but good luck with this... whole thing," Rebecca waved a hand to indicate the two of them, and then waved again in as a goodbye gesture, which Desmond half-heartedly returned as she marched out of the shop.

"Hey. Miles. I'll pay you fifty percent upfront if you make me an actual, good tasting tea." Shaun offered falsely.

No amount of tea, be it Da Hung Pao or no name brand, would make him pay Desmond enough to bail on the marriage.

*******

Shaun looked up at the knock on his apartment door and stood from the table. He strode across his wood floors and threw open the door. Seeing who it was he shoved two napkins in Desmond's face. "Eggshell or parchment.”

“What?”

“Eggshell or Parchment? Which do you think looks more sophisticated?"

If they had actually been getting married in a few months, Shaun would have finished planning it three months ago and moving the wedding up to a new date wouldn't have been difficult. But Shaun had three weeks to plan for a massive wedding that had to look like it had been in the works for at _least_ half a year. 

Desmond frowned at the linen napkins.

"Uh, they're both white? Aren't those the same?" He asked.

"They are _incredibly_ different-- eggshell has golden undertones and--" Shaun let out a huff of frustration and stepped aside ushering Desmond in, "look, you obviously don't care. But this is important, everything needs to be considered. If anyone suspects a single detail is rushed this whole charade will fall to pieces."

Shaun was panicking. And when he panicked he got caught up on insignificant details. 

"I think you’re putting too much weight on a scrap of fabric, Shaun.” Desmond reached out and took the parchment coloured one from Shaun. “No one is going to think we aren’t actually together just because we picked the wrong napkins or place cards. When you pay me for a good job, I do a good job. And I keep my word. You'll be fine. Parchment is fine. It's a stuffy old book color, it suits you."

Shaun looked at him a moment and felt a hint of gratitude seep into his heart. He was being slightly ridiculous. "Yes, well." He muttered, "I paid for that lunch horror as well, didn't I? Only if you run out before the wedding ends it'll be a damn sight worse." His voice was dry as he plucked the parchment napkin from Desmond's grip, "Alright. Parchment it is. Now we just have I decide on the rest of the colour scheme, china patterns, our location, flowers and if we will have them, vows, clothing choices, religious traditions if there are any, and basically everything else."

"Religious traditions?" Desmond raised an eyebrow. "Are you religious?"

"I am decidedly not. I wasn't sure if you were." Shaun sat at the table and spread out some swatches, "I was about to order food, do you want Chinese or pizza?"

"Chinese. The pizza in this city is all garbage," Desmond said, dropping into a chair.

Shuan frowned for a moment. They lived in New York City, pizza capital of the world. Except for, of course, Italy, he realized belatedly. Shaun pulled out his cell phone and ordered enough Chinese food to feed a small army and sat down at his dining room table which was currently obscured by a cascading mountain of fabric.

He looked at Desmond, who had taken a seat across from him and looked downright terrified at the sight of all the fabric combinations. Shaun sighed. "Look... I know--" he cut himself off. Desmond didn't need his apologies or condolences on lost time. He wouldn't accept anything halfway kind Shaun told him without suspecting an ulterior motive anyway, so he might as well leap right into the next request. "You should probably move into my apartment. Or if you don't like it we should go house shopping. You can't live somewhere else if you're married to me, and Ms. Stillman made it obvious they have access to those records."

Desmond blinked.

"Hold on. Are you... Are you serious?" He asked.

Shaun looked at him a moment. "Does it seem like I'd say something like that as a joke, Miles? Are you really that stupid." Shaun groaned melodramatically and placed his head in his hands, "God, I've got myself hitched to an idiot. This is going to be horrible."

"You're the idiot," Desmond snapped back. It wasn’t the best comeback. Pretty much the worst.

"What do I do with all my stuff? Hold on, isn’t your family in Britain?"

Shaun blinked at the abrupt segway. What went on in that man’s head was a mystery Shaun didn’t particularly want to solve. “Yes…? Why is that of any concern?”

"Shaun, have you ever actually _been_ to a wedding? Family is generally involved.”

“Ah. Well luckily you won’t have to worry about mine." Shaun paused and tried to get them back on track, "As for your belongings I suppose they go where most people's things go when they move in together. In the other person's living space. If we need more room than this apartment provides we will move, it isn't an issue you need to worry about."

"You're willing to move just to uphold the ruse of your fake marriage? And pay me as well? How damn rich are you?" Desmond asked. But before Shaun could open his mouth to reply the apartment buzzer sounded.

Shaun stood and walked to the door, he commented over his shoulder, "One has to spend money to make money, Miles."

He opened the door and payed the bored teenage delivery boy, taking the bags and shutting the door in one smooth movement. He dumped the bags on the kitchen counter and rummaged in the cabinets, grabbing two plates and two glasses. "What do you want to drink?"

"Gin. Whiskey. Vodka. Anything," Desmond replied, plucking fabric samples off the table. "What are these even for?" He asked, picking up the book on flower arrangements. Shaun had gone out and bought a book on flower arrangements. He had maybe been a little anxious.

"Well... Tablecloths and decorations and... That kind of thing." Shaun didn't know a lot about weddings, only what he had discovered the previous week. "All the websites I found said it was important to have a colour scheme and theme that everything, including flowers, would follow."

He went over to his alcohol cabinet and picked a strong whiskey, aged and impressive.

"I was thinking a sort of cream and gold theme... you'd look good in a white tux with a gold tie--" he cut himself off, he hadn't even drunk anything yet. He couldn't be talking like that. He added drily, "But I figured it would be a good idea to choose together. We'll see how wrong I was by the end of the night I expect."

Desmond snorted. "White tux? You haven't met my family. And since you've insisted we're inviting them, we need to be traditional. Because apparently we're going to have to convince everyone. With the obvious exception of Rebecca. And probably my brother."

Shaun muttered under his breath while sharing out helpings of everything from the bags, "how traditional can a homosexual wedding ever hope to be."

He put the plates on the cleared table and grabbed their drinks before sitting down across from Desmond.

"So you're suggesting black tuxedos for both of us then?"

Desmond accepted the fork Shaun offered, but picked up one of the containers and just started eating right out of it.

"Black tuxes, white tablecloths, traditional. The homosexual part, they can work with. Mostly."

 Shaun froze, "Mostly?"

Shaun hadn't considered the implications of Desmond not being out with his family. He glared at Desmond's hands eating from the take out box, which was just rude, really.

Despite being well aware it was pissing Shaun off, judging by the smirk, Desmond didn't stop eating straight from the container.

"You know what, let me worry about my family. How about we talk about how you are such a sad individual that you collect what I can only guess is really expensive whiskey, and eat Chinese takeout off of plates. Don’t you know takeout and good plates belong in different worlds?"

Shaun looked deadpan at Desmond before rolling his eyes, "you aren't objecting to the silverware I notice, so you can't be that hell bent on an authentic take out experience."

Shaun takes a sip of whiskey and lets it burn on his tongue a moment before swallowing it down, "I just don't like eating out of a cardboard box. It feels like I'm a homeless person."

"No that's living in a cardboard box, not eating out of one," Desmond said.

"You don't have to tell me what living in a cardboard box is like," Shaun muttered into his Chinese food, realizing belatedly he really, _really_ didn’t want Desmond to hear that. "At any rate,” he said, loudly. “We should discuss the invitations. I hadn't planned on homophobes attending so we will have to alter a few ideas I had, such as the male stripper." 

"Were you drinking already? What part of traditional wedding did you miss hear? When have you ever seen any _kind_ of stripper at a wedding?" He asked instead.

“It’s very rude to assume strippers don’t get married, you know.”

Desmond laughed as Shaun poured him what was essentially a shot. Desmond then plucked it off the table with a practised hand and knocked it back. When Shaun raised an eyebrow, Desmond grinned.

"I was a bartender in college, so don't think you can out drink me," he said cockily, Shaun's eyebrow just rose even further.

"You went to college?" Shaun raised an eyebrow, "what did you even take? A bachelor's in smart ass-ery?" Shaun poured more whiskey and and leaned back in his chair.

"Business. I was in biz school," Desmond said.

"Business school. Seriously." Shaun snorted into his drink, "God-- you didn't want to go to university at all did you? Unless you secretly own that 'coffee shop' you work at." He reached over and grabbed some of the colour swatches, "And if you _do_ own that shack-- well. Your degree isn't doing you much good, is it?"

"Haha I wish. And you wish. I regret to tell you, you will not be marrying into money," Desmond said. Then after a moment's processing he added, "Hold on, are you talking shit about my coffee shop? It's a haven! A goddamned haven!"

"Maybe for non-tea drinkers," Shaun muttered and topped both of them off, "but we really do need to move on, as much as I love talking about how much I hate your coffee shop. We do need to pick colours for this wedding. Even if it's just the colours of the flowers on the trellis, our pocket squares and the name cards."

"Pocket squares. You are ridiculous.” Desmond snorted. “And obviously the name cards should be black writing and parchment coloured paper. To match the linens."

Shaun slowly grinned and leaned on his hand looking almost fondly at Desmond, "oh look at you. You have some sense after all."

He might be a little tipsy already.

"I'm not an idiot you know," Desmond said defensively. "Hey, let's switch to something cheaper and awfuller," he suggested. Shaun raised an eyebrow again, but got up from his seat.

"I have some cheap and horrible rum, if you're interested?" Shaun asked, walking over to his stash and holding it up. "And yes, Desmond. I know you aren't stupid. _Though_ you did spell my name 'SEAN' the first time."

"Shut your stupid mouth about that, and give me this awful rum you speak of," Desmond insisted.

Shaun snorted, "Mixed or straight?" He plonked the rum down on the table in front of Desmond and met his eyes with a grin.

He doesn't realize he's sort of flirting until the words were out of his mouth. He coughed quickly. "What I wouldn't do for the ingredients of a Cable Car." Shaun sighed a touch theatrically to cover his embarrassment. He went to the kitchen and plucked a can of coke from the fridge.

"I knew it! I had you pegged for a fancy cocktail kind of guy," Desmond called after him, laughing. "And I'll drink it straight, because I'm really tough," he added.

"I can tell," Shaun said, sitting back down at the table.

If Desmond was flirting back maybe it wasn't so bad to flirt with him. It was actually... Kind of fun. And nice. "You are by far the manliest man I know." He sat  down and pushed his cup, rum and can of coke over to Desmond, "how about you show me how a bartender mixes a drink then."

"I'm a barista now," Desmond said, picking up the bottle, unscrewing the lid and taking a swig.

"Now let’s pick some damn colour swatches."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQZIUHNORHg  
> ((Also we plan to update once anywhere between a week and four days! Thanks for all your support kiddos!!xoxo))


	5. It's Not an Act, He Has a Motorcycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy is really good at adding drama to just about anything.

Shaun was in his kitchen humming a jaunty little tune in slightly too long pinstripe pajamas. He was making toast and he was pretty excited about it. Sunshine streamed in from the three windows in his living room. Light painted over the floor in broad, sweeping strokes and landed on the slowly rising and falling shoulders of a certain Desmond Miles, who had crashed on his couch after their wild night of picking ideal flower arrangements and getting too drunk to take anything seriously, especially said flower arrangements.

It was remarkable how easy it was to make a group of flowers look like an erect penis.

"Oh my god I threw up here," Shaun heard Desmond mumble miserably. “And… Over there.” He watched Desmond struggle to sit up, clutching his head and groaning.

"That you did." Shaun said, looking down at Desmond with very little sympathy. "You _also_ told me that you could drink me under the table. Which was a, now obvious, lie." Walking over, Shaun put a cup of coffee down on the side table just out of Desmond’s reach. "Breakfast will be ready soon, Miles. Don't take too long _sulking_ in your hangover."

"Yeah so I lied a little. I did less drinking and more actual bartending in college." His voice was very small and he was still hiding his face in his hands, like he was trying to ward off the blazing sun.

If Shaun were a weaker man he would find Desmond adorable. But he wasn't. A weaker man that is.

Shaun cleared his throat, "Yes well. Now I actually have something to blackmail you with. This _tough guy_ thing is all an act."

"It's not an act. I have a motorcycle," Desmond said sulkily. Shaun smirked over his shoulder and he watched Desmond as he took a sip from the coffee cup and then promptly started to gag. A little over dramatically, Shaun thought.

"Oh my god, what is this?" He demanded.

"Coffee.”Shaun said turning to the now popped toast and plopping it on a plate, shoving two more slices into his toaster. “I felt the same way when I first tried it, but I hear you get used to it." 

"This is not coffee. This is awful," Desmond said, getting up off the couch stiffly and following Shaun into the kitchen. He took another sip and shuddered.

"You're a liar too."

"I'm very honest! Except for this whole marriage thing. And _some_ lawyer related things." Shaun paused, "Alright, I'm _mostly_ honest. What are even accusing me of lying about here?"

Shaun pulled the second set of toast out of the toaster and started rummaging around in his fridge trying to find some non-expired marmalade.

"Lying about having coffee. This is like... Brown dirt water," Desmond complained sulkily. He was drinking it regardless, so Shaun largely ignored his complaints.

“Isn’t that all coffee? What kind of jam do you want?”

"No Shaun. Coffee is delicious. _This_ is terrible. And I want no jam. And also no toast. I'm hoping to avoid a repeat performance of last night," Desmond said, dropping his face into his hand.

Shaun rolled his eyes and grabbed the strawberry jam for himself. "Anyone ever tell you that your are an over-dramatic child? All you did was throw up a little." Shaun said flippantly. "Everyone does it. Normally after quite a few _more_ drinks than you had, but all the same."

"I actually think you secretly have a liver of steel and were playing me all along," Desmond grumbled.

“Like hustling you at… Drinking?” Shaun grinned, “Desmond how does that even make any sense, I’d have nothing to gain here--”

Shaun was interrupted by a worryingly official-sounding knock on the door.

Shaun walked to the door, still in his pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt, and opened it.

"Oh! Ms. Stillman. What a surprise, please come in." He moved aside for her as she swept in confidently and ran an appraising look over the apartment.

Stillman cocked an eyebrow at seeing Desmond in obviously slept in jeans and t shirt, “Good morning, Mr. Miles."

Shaun forced down a laugh at the deer-in-headlights look that had frozen itself onto Desmond's face. “Good morning, Ms. Stillman.” He said, voice throaty and more than a little overwhelmed.

Shaun immediately took matters into his own hands. “You arrived at just the wrong time to talk to us both, I’m afraid. Desmond is about to head out! He got a late shift this morning so we slept in.”

Desmond nodded furiously and grabbed his coat before shuffling awkwardly around Ms. Stillman, who refused to budge. “It was nice to see you.”

Ms. Stillman narrowed her eyes and turned to Shaun when Desmond left. He coughed and asked, "What can I do for you today, Ms. Stillman?"

"You can actually just call me Lucy. We'll be seeing enough of each other, might as well be more casual about it." Her eyes swept over the table, taking in the two tipped-over glasses, an empty bottle of cheap rum, piles of crude sketches, and the tiny mountain of fabric swatches.

"I see the wedding planning is in its _final_ stages. These notes yours?" she asked, holding up an envelope. Shaun would recognise that horrible scrawl anywhere.

"Uhm no. Those are probably Desmond's." _Oh lord, what did he write. Please god don’t let it be the dick bouquets_.

"Whatever it says keep in mind that we were also drinking."

"I can see that. It says ‘normal tux’ in all caps. And I think... A list of flowers. For arrangements maybe?" Lucy said, peering down at the scrawl.

"I may have suggested a white tux. He wasn't _enchanted_ by the idea." Shaun leaned on the counter. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? I should warn you-- Desmond says mine tastes like dirty mud water."

"Thanks, but no," Lucy said. She pulled out a pad and scribbled a few notes, looking around the apartment. "Well I was hoping to interview you both for the record, but your fiancé has run off on me again," Lucy said.

"He tends to run out like that a lot, but is very rarely late." Shaun says, thinking maybe he should be dropping tidbits about Desmond here and there. Hopefully it would add to the realisticness of their relationship.

"So what did you want to interview us about? Just in general?"

"Don't worry about it," Lucy said, checking her phone. Shaun frowned. That seemed like pertinent information. "I have other work I can get done, so we can reschedule. You and Desmond might want to work on your communication if you plan if you wanna last as a couple though," she said, giving Shaun a pitying kind of smile.

Shaun felt a wave of defensiveness rush through him, which was really ridiculous, they _did_ have shitty communication skills. Though he supposed they hadn't really been around each other yet enough to develop them.

"I'll talk to him about it. You caught us on a bad day I'm afraid, Lucy." He smiled, started walking towards the door. He had dodged the bullet, at least. 

Lucy closed the door behind her, and the click matched the click of her heels retreating down the hallway.

~~~~~~~~

Three days into a stressful week later, Shaun had straightened the apartment anywhere Lucy might even glimpse. He had been tense and anxious about this interview ever since Desmond had called him after he had left him to deal with Lucy alone and informed him that his brother, Altair, had somehow been in contact with Lucy.

Shaun stretched up to swiffer the television set, and caught sight of Desmond lounging on the couch.

"You better not run off like you did last time. Because, I swear Desmond, if Lucy decides to lecture me about how our relationship will deteriorate because we don't _communicate_ enough I will probably kill you."

"Yeah yeah.” Desmond rolled his eyes, “I had to talk to my grandpa. I stood him up last time and I think if I don't come to his birthday party he'll have me killed."

"Oh I'm sure. A small but dangerous old man coming to kill you." Shaun rolled his eyes and made his way into the kitchen where Desmond was drinking coffee. He leaned on the kitchen table and watched him.

"You've never met my grandpa," Desmond said darkly, sipping his coffee. There was a prompt knock at the door.

"That's her," Shaun declared, tugging on his sleeves. Desmond ducked behind a chair so fast it had to be based purely on instinct. “You can’t _hide_.” He hissed, grabbing the collar of Desmond's shirt and hauling him to his feet, marching them both to the door.

"Welcome back.” Shaun said, smile overly warm on his face as he opened the door, “We've both made sure to clear our schedules this time.”

Lucy smiled. Shuan assumed, anyway. "Well that's good to hear," she said.

"You want some coffee?" Desmond asked, gesturing into the kitchen. He was remarkably more calm than he had been thirteen seconds ago. "It's not garbage, I made it," he said.

"All coffee is garbage, no matter who makes it." Shaun muttered as he shut the door behind Lucy and followed the two into the kitchen.

Lucy narrowed her eyes and shook her head, "No thank you, I'd rather we just get right to the point."

"I’d like to know how you thought we'd never check with your families about this relationship." Her voice was bored, like she’d arrived at the conclusion she had been expecting all along, "You of course both realize just how _deep_ in shit you are for faking a relationship in order to fool immigration services, correct?"

" _Faking_ a _relationship_?" Desmond said in mock outrage.

Shaun grabbed Desmond's hand. He was surprised but, thanks to his chosen career, good at improvising and picking up small details-- even after being thrown through a loop. 

"Is this about Desmond's family not knowing? Because we _had_ a plan," Shaun sighed. "Which is apparently now _ruined_. It's Desmond's grandfather’s birthday in a few days, we were going to surprise them at the party."

Lucy pursed her lips. Desmond made a kind of hissing intake of breath.

Lucy said nothing and continued to glare.

“This is about Altair, isn’t it? You called him?” Desmond asked. “He was one of the people we were going to surprise. I haven’t been home to see the family in ages and I was really looking forward to surprising them with having an actual, functioning relationship. It’s sort of an oddity in our family.”

"I see." Lucy said.

Shaun looked a little harder at Lucy and moved closer to Desmond, "I suppose that depends on how many family members you interrogated about us, but we would still like to try and surprise them."

He thanked the fates that he knew how to work with these situations, because if Desmond's terrified face communicated anything it was that he was never on his high school improv team.

"Not so many that it'll entirely ruin the effect, I’m sure." Lucy said. "Now, I'd like to interview both of you."

Shaun heard Desmond swallow beside him. "Ok, but keep in mind, it's been something of a whirlwind romance."

Shaun smiled. "Too true." He figured it was time for a horribly soppy moment, and put a hand on Desmond's cheek, "I think the only answer they _really_ need to know is that I love you. I know I don't say it much, but it’s a fact." He smiled softly at Desmond, and ghosted his thumb over his cheekbone. 

Desmond started coughing and Shaun jerked his hand away, trying to hide the disgusted look on his face. Desmond had better not be coming down with something.

"So-- _so_ in love. With you. I'm so in love with you too," he gasped. “And that’s the American dream, isn’t it, Lucy?”

Shaun interrupted before she could give an answer. "If you get nervous, just remember we love each other, alright?"

Shaun smiled softly, Desmond was going to throw the biggest hissy fit when Lucy left. Shaun couldn't wait.

"Unfortunately, I’ll have a few more questions than that," Lucy said. She was pursing her lips again.

Shaun guided Lucy and Desmond into the living room and say with Desmond on the loveseat, and slung an arm over the back of the couch and around Desmond's shoulders in a relaxed approximation of intimacy.

"So what are your questions, Lucy?"

Lucy leaned back in a comfortable armchair and pulled out her notebook, clicked her pen and poised ready to scrawl their answers.

"First, how did you two meet?"

"At work," Desmond said immediately. Shuan was glad. After all, lies that were close to the truth were always the safest.

"You don’t work together though." Lucy said, looking up at them sharply, pen frozen mid scrawl.

"No, I'm a barista, but the coffee shop is in his building. He was the only customer to ever order tea. And it was like, boom, instant chemistry," Desmond said. Lucy resumed her writing.

"So he's a lawyer, and you're a barista?"

"It's kind of a Cinderella story, I guess. But didn't you already know all this?" Desmond asked.

"Just trying to get all the facts straight," Lucy said. "Alright then, next question," Lucy looks up at them, "how did you two start dating. Who asked who?"

Shaun looked up and grinned at Desmond, "Well. I gave him my number, but he did the actual asking. Sort of. It was mostly a stuttering mess of syllables that I pieced together and translated into 'please oh please will you go on a date with me'."

Desmond sort of bared his teeth as he turned to look at Shaun. "Oh yeah. I was just tripping over myself to ask him out."

Lucy's pen started scratching away again.

"Interesting. And who said 'I love you' first? I'm assuming that's happened, seeing as you _are_ getting married." Lucy smirked, and met Desmond's eyes first and then Shaun's.

"That would be Shaun. He's very emotionally open. He's the one who proposed too." Desmond took Shaun's hand and squeezed.

"Oh yes. Desmond cried though, he was so moved. He has this thing where he thinks no one will love him. I take it upon myself to prove him wrong." Shaun tugged Desmond's linked hand closer to himself and pushed a soft kiss to his temple. It was a little disarming to feel Desmond so warm and real against him, their fingers tangled tight in a comforting touch.

"How _did_ the proposal go?" Lucy asked, breaking into Shaun strange and very unnecessary thoughts.

"Shaun was a mess.” Desmond said with a grin, as if recalling a fond memory, “He had his tie on backwards, like an idiot. tHat was my first tipoff that something big was going down We were at a restaurant-- you know, uh, what's the name of that place?"

Shaun grinned tightly and spat out, "Oh it was your favorite, darling, Olive Garden." He turned to Lucy, "He likes to pretend its high class dining. Someday I hope to train him out of it."

"That's me. Uncultured like all Americans.” The grip on Shaun’s hand was getting painfully altogether too quickly, “Shaun was so nervous that he asked before we even ordered. It was kind of a disaster from there on in. Let’s just say, sudden kneeling, waiters tripping, food everywhere. I said yes anyways. Always wanted my own personal disaster."

Lucy clicked her pen.

"Right. Well this has been... eye opening.” She flipped her binder shut and regarded them coolly before sighing and saying, “You know, I'm not even convinced you guys like each other, let alone love each other. But we can pick this up again next week, of course."

Shaun got to his feet, "I love Desmond and if you can't see that maybe you're in the wrong profession."

His voice was cold, and it was an idiotic thing to say to someone.Especially to someone who was evaluating the love between two people who were very much not in it. Hopefully that would help convince her though, somehow.

People who got emotional often said things they didn't think through, he assured himself. Shaun supposed if you loved someone and someone else was convinced you didn't even _like_ each other, a normal person would get defensive. 

"Until next week then," Lucy said, smiling sweetly.

"Until next week." Shaun said, teeth grinding.

As the door clicked shut behind Lucy. Desmond groaned.

"You and your huge British mouth. You haven't met my family," Desmond said.

"They _can't_ be that bad. Nothing compared to mine. And how would you propose to save this situation otherwise?" Shaun locked the door and walked closer to Desmond, "without my 'big British mouth' we'd both be in jail."

"My grandpa's house is in Lake Placid. I don't even want to spend the party with you, let alone a plane ride," Desmond snapped.

Shaun turned and glared, "well I guess it _is_ your choice. Is the money worth my horrendous company?"

Desmond took a breath in through his teeth, and then seemed to deflate.

"Yeah. I guess it is. Hang on, I'll get the address," he said, pulling out his phone.

"Lake Placid... Where have I heard that name before." Shaun thought about it while straightening pillows and folding blankets in the living room. He didn't like to stand awkwardly still while people played with their phones. "That's near where John Brown is buried, isn't it?" He spoke to himself mostly, sure that even if Desmond _had_ paid attention to the history of the town he wouldn't know the abolitionist who was credited with sparking the civil war. He didn't seem like one of the people who cared.

"Um, maybe? Grandpa wasn't like, taking me and my brother out into the woods and telling us history stories. He was--uh. Hunting. Teaching us hunting," Desmond said. There was a slightly panicky edge to Desmond’s voice that Shaun couldn’t place.

Shaun sneered, "Hunting. Of course. I hope I won't be expected to get my hands dirty on this trip. Which will be _how_ long, by the way?"

Lake Placid itself wouldn't be the tough thing to survive on this trip. That area of their state was known for its beautiful trails and woods and lakes. The real challenge would be Desmond. And his family. If they were anything like Desmond, Shaun was in for the trip of his life.

"The celebrations are a week. So pack a lot of socks, I guess," Desmond said.

Shaun sighed, "I really hope you pack more than socks, your feet aren’t the only things I wish to stay covered." He paused and groaned, "I'll have to call into work. I’ll bet they make me use my sick days."

Supposing it was better to get it out of the way fast, he picked up his phone and dialed his secretary to let her know.While it rang he turned back to Desmond, "You're lucky I have no big cases that can't be shoved onto the associates."

"Oh, yeah. _Extremely_ lucky." Desmond scoffed. "I text you the details. And I assume you'll pay for your own flight," he added, pulling open the door to the apartment.

"Good _bye_ , Desmond. I'm on the phone," he held the receiver closer to his face and waved Desmond out of his apartment. Like he would expect anyone to buy a plane ticket for him. He could take care for himself. He had been for years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://41.media.tumblr.com/9bc55607dc1a0972a82c8cf6c19719c4/tumblr_nvu06s4EvF1uedygmo1_1280.jpg


	6. Musta Been One Fucked Up Power Tool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whirlwind romance immigrant man continues on his journey.

 

At the edge of the Adirondack airport parking lot, where the asphalt merged with the road, Desmond and Shaun stood in the cold air watching a plane take off in silence. Desmond was  leaned on a guide post. Beside him, Shaun sighed heavily and scuffed his foot on the ground, irritation radiating from him. Most people had this reaction the first time they were exposed to Altair's lax attitude towards punctuality. He was personally only hoping he would arrive without concealed weapons.

"He was supposed to pick us up twenty minutes ago, Desmond." Shaun adjusted his laptop strap and leaned his rolling bag on his thigh. "Is he always this late?"

Desmond groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Yeah, pretty much." He didn't know what was worse, the idea of his family embarrassing him in front of Shaun or Shaun embarrassing him in front of his family.

"Just put your bag down, it's obviously heavy."

"I'm not putting my laptop bag on the ground. You'll probably step on it." Shaun shifted the bag again. "How late is he normally?"

“Oh you know, ten, sometimes... forty minutes.” Shaun groaned and rolled his eyes, obviously not excited at the idea of standing around outside for another twenty minutes.

The last of the few cars that had come to pick up travelers drove away down the road and Desmond would give anything for a bench at this point. 

Then, in the distance, Altair's used Kia Sorento came into view. When Altair had first parked the thing in the driveway Desmond had asked him what he wanted with such a bland and affordable car. Altair had grinned and said ‘discretion,’ but Desmond got the feeling he was trying to take credit for what had to be their dad's idea. Altair could be great at stealth when he wanted to be, but he rarely wanted to be.

"That's him," Desmond said, picking up his duffel bag.

"Thank god." Shaun huffed and hiked his bag up on more time and extended the handle on his luggage, rumbling towards the car. "Listen, they won't make us play family card games or anything, right?"

The mere thought of Altair and William playing monopoly was enough to make Desmond snort with laughter.

"Not ever," Desmond said. It would end in maiming, he was certain. The car window rolled down and Altair leaned over with a half formed smirk on his face.

"Hurry up," he called, smirk slipping into a grin.

"Like you can talk," Desmond snapped, wrenching open the door and throwing his duffel at Altair, who caught it without blinking and dropped it back on Desmond's lap.

Shaun stayed uncharacteristically quiet until they did a U-turn and started heading back up the shitty pothole-filled road. Altair broke the wonderful silence when he looked a Shaun in the rear view mirror and said, "So this is the infamous fiancé that I have heard so much--” He froze mid-sentence and rounded on Desmond, “No, wait, actually literally nothing is what you've told me about this dude." 

Shaun coughed into his hand. "Yeah. Well you know Desmond, so absent minded about these things.” He paused, and then added, “Though to be fair, I have been having some trepidation about meeting the family."

Desmond ignored Altair's pointed glance.

"Meeting our family? Nothing to be scared of." Altair pushed the radio on listened to a few bars of whatever peppy song and tapped his fingers on the wheel. Desmond was surprised Shaun didn’t sense the flat-out lie. He was a lawyer, after all.

Shaun bristled and muttered, "I said I had trepidation, not that I was scared."

In the rear-view mirror, Desmond watched Shaun’s eyes flick between him and Altair. Only one year apart, they’d spent most of their life being mistaken for twins. Desmond had to admit, they did look uncannily similar. Then he watched Shaun’s eyes move down towards the steering wheel, and the gap on Altair’s hand.

"Why are you missing a finger?" he blurted out, and then snapped his mouth closed like he hadn’t intended to ask the question.

"Power tool accident," Altair answered immediately, before Desmond had a chance to even think of a lie. He was _actually_ missing a finger because Ezio had dragged out the hidden blades when Altair was sixteen and told them how they would one day inherit these family heirlooms, but the ancient relic that Altair would revive needed modification, as it had once required a ‘horrible sacrifice’.

Altair had, predictably, stolen the hidden blade from Ezio later that day. That was the first time Desmond was really scared of his brother. Because he always knew on some level that Altair was a little unhinged, but he'd never realized he was that committed to being a master assassin. Ezio was horrified. And William? He had to pretend not to be proud. But even then, Desmond could tell.

"Must have been one fucked up power tool to miss all your other fingers," Shaun said. Desmond nearly snorted.

“Well being a lawyer, you must be really informed on woodworking,” Altair shot back.

"Well yes, I'm afraid I _did_ stay more inside with my history and law books." Shaun paused. "Which rather does help me in my ridiculously well-paying job, you know. Gives me a bit of an edge."

Oh god, Desmond had to defuse this fast. He laughed, “Yeah, I’ll be marrying a bit of a bookworm.”

"At least someone in the family will like books," Altair said.

"Dad likes to read books," Desmond pointed out. “Do you wanna see what I’m giving Grandpa?”

"Probably not the same kind," Altair replied. “But, uh-- sure.”

Desmond bent over to unzip his bag and started rummaging around, hoping to god this would be enough of a distraction.

"I never have met anyone who really enjoys the same books I do. It's mostly all historic and religious impact. What sort of reading does your father do?" How did Shaun manage to sound like a complete ass every time he so much as opened his mouth?

Desmond stopped rummaging and exchanged a look with Altair.

"Mostly fiction," Atalir said, just as Desmond was saying, "Nature." They paused for a moment.

"Nature fiction. My Side of the Mountain. That kind of stuff," Altair said. "So hurry up and show me," he insisted, changing the subject.

"Nature fiction." Shaun huffed, rather derivatively. Before he let out a panicked choke, "Wait, was I supposed to buy a present? Desmond did you put my name on the gift?"

"Grandpa doesn't even _know_ you, he won't expect anything. Ta-da!” Desmond said, producing the gift from his bag. “I visited every pawn shop in the city for this," It was unwrapped, and unsheathed. A stiletto dagger. Ancient and, although Desmond wasn't about to actually say it, a relic of their family's, sold or stolen who knows how long ago.

Altair even looked impressed.

"Grandpa collects interesting and historical weapons.” Before Desmond added quickly. “For display only. Obviously."

"You've probably outdone _everyone_ with this, Des," Altair said. Desmond suspected he had. Ezio loved having heirlooms returned to the family.

"It's a beautiful knife." Shaun said. "It must have cost a fortune," he added, watching as Desmond rolled the hilt between his fingers.

"Not when you know where to look," Desmond said. He did not add, _‘And you are actually part of an ancient order of assassins.’_

Altair didn't add it either.

Unfortunately, he also didn't make any attempts at small talk.

If it weren't for the whole assassin thing, Desmond would gladly consider his family the most boring people in the country to be stuck in a car with. With the possible exception of Ezio, but he was pretty old, so he napped a lot these days.

********

They rode the rest of the way to the beach house in awkward silence, Shaun was thankful it was only a twenty minute drive between the airport and the house. They were driving down a wooded road when, through the trees, Shaun finally spotted the lake the town was named for, glittering in the noon sun. He was struck with the childish urge to dive in and he turned away from the water.

They finally pulled into a wide and winding drive that was lined with cars up either side. Desmond made a confused sound. “Altair, this better not be what I think it is…”

“We moved the birthday party to tonight. Nearly the whole town showed up.” The noise Desmond made sounded like this confirmed many fears all at once. They pulled into an empty space among the many older cars and Desmond opened his car door for him.

"Give me one of your bags and I'll carry it up," Desmond said, holding out an empty am expectantly. The setting sun made his skin look like it was edged with gold.

Shaun shoved the wheeled one that was absolutely heavier than his laptop bag at Desmond without a word. His feet crunched on gravel as he turned and shut the car door and saw Desmond already making his way up to the massive house. It was built log cabin style, only way larger. Shaun felt dwarfed by the sheer size of it and was so distracted he didn't notice Altair standing next to him until it was too late to book it after Desmond.

Altair leaned in a little ways. Despite the similarities in their faces, there was something a lot harsher about the way he looked.

"Listen, whirlwind romance immigrant man. I like you fine. But if you hurt my brother, I _will_ kill you," he said.

Shaun froze where he stood, mouth gaping a little. Something cold and _lethal_ had flashed in Altair's eyes. Shaun wished it was within his power to doubt the threat but… Those eyes looked like they had seen death before.

"Hurry up, nerds!" Desmond yelled from the front steps, dispelling the moment of silence and terror. Altair turned and walked away.

Shaun rubbed his hand over his eyes and let out a shaky breath as he followed after the imposing man. He wouldn't really have to worry about the whole murdering thing at least; he doubted Desmond would ever care about their 'relationship' enough to be hurt by anything that came from it.

Shaun walked up the front steps and under the large covered porch that wrapped around half of the house. The moment he set foot inside music and chatter washed over him, people milling around in groups, warm and friendly conversations pocketed inside the huge space with tall ceilings. The decor was a strange mash-up of modern touches, white washed walls, and exposed wood. Shaun couldn’t help but feel a little awed by the place.

"Desmond! Altair!" A voice cried out, the man who spoke spread his arms wide and beamed. Desmond hugged him immediately, and Shaun watched in shock as Altair allowed his hair to be ruffled begrudgingly.

"Oh um, Grandpa Ezio, this is Shaun," Desmond said, gesturing to Shaun. Ezio grinned at him.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I always liked blondes myself," Ezio said, winking. Shaun felt the tips of his ears burn.

"Grandpa," Desmond groaned. “Don’t make me find Ziio.”

“No need,” A tall woman with dark skin, warm eyes and a long braid smacked Ezio on the arm, light but chastising all the same. She turned to Shaun and smiled.

"Ignore him," she told him reassuringly, "I'm Ziio, Desmond's aunt. The only sane one in this entire house."

The tall man standing beside her huffed indignantly and she rolled her eyes. "This is my husband, Haytham, who is absolutely _not_ a sane person."

The man made a displeased noise.

"Hello. I'm, uh, Shaun Hastings." He was a little thrown by the size of Desmond's close family.

"So you're the boyfriend. We've heard so little about you," Ziio said.

"I've been busy," Desmond said, and appeared to immediately regret it, because Altair, moving past to get a drink, smacked his ass and hooted while Ezio laughed uproariously. Shaun felt his whole face go red.

Suddenly there was a new person in the circle of laughter, which died down almost immediately. The man clapped a hand on Desmond’s shoulder.

"Desmond, mind if I have a word?" He asked in a tone that didn’t suggest a question. It did, however, suggest that he was Desmond’s father. He briefly nodded to Shaun before meeting Desmond's eyes expectantly.

"Uh, get a drink or something. I'll be right back," Desmond told Shaun.

Shaun cleared his throat and watched Desmond go nervously. There was no way Desmond's dad could hate him already, he reassured himself.

Ziio laughed and wrapped an arm around him, "you look like a deer in headlights. Let's get you something to loosen you up."

Haytham looked at Shaun with a wince, "she means the strongest alcohol in the house. Which we also sell to fishermen who want to remove mollusks from the bottoms of their boats."

"It isn't that bad." Snorted Ziio. "I was just going to test his tolerance level."

"Let’s just say, I'm not as big a lightweight as Desmond." Shaun said, smiling despite himself. Something about the playful and caring energy made him forget his worries around Desmond and his father.

"You still don't want this stuff, trust me." Altair, who had reappeared with something dark and strong smelling in a red cup, elbowed him with a half nod toward the kitchen. "I'll grab you a beer."

All of them moved into an airy kitchen with an island large enough to seat all of them, people crowded around and from her Shaun could see the party spilled out onto a huge back deck.

Altair opened the fridge and suddenly a boy of about six skidded into the room in his socks. "What's happening now?" The child demanded.

Ziio swooped down and picked up the boy, smiling at him. "Desmond and his boyfriend finally showed up. Conner, this is Shaun, say hello."

Conner crossed his arms and measured Shaun up, who felt rather self-conscious in the face of this intense scrutiny. "Hi, Conner." 

Conner nodded at Shaun and turned to Haytham, a sudden grin splitting his face, "Dad! I've been practicing that 'leap of faith' you told me about!"

Haytham reacted in a way that Shaun wasn't anticipating from a man who seemed to never slouch. His eyes widened and he turned to Ziio and opened his mouth looking completely gobsmacked. "Oh have you... Uh, that's very good Conner. Why-- why don’t you tell me about it a little later--?"

Ziio's expression was enough for Shaun to take the beer and slide out of the room quietly, not wanting to get in the middle of a family spat.

Shaun knew absolutely no one in the packed house and he slunk from the crowded room down an empty hallway where he ran into Desmond.

Shaun frowned as he saw Desmond's face, which was pinched and hard. "Does your dad already hate me as much as you do? I'm not that bad, he's known me for three minutes!" 

It seemed to take a minute for Desmond to realize what Shaun meant.

"Oh, no, he was, um. He's pissed about my job," Desmond explained.

That through Shaun threw a loop. "What, at the coffee shop? Why? What could he say about that shit hole I haven't said before?" Shaun crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, taking a pull from his beer.

"The difference is he's my dad, and until last week, you were just some rude lawyer who kept ordering tea from my coffee haven," Desmond snapped. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and grabbed Shaun's hand.

"Come on," he said.

Shaun widened his eyes and drank a little deeper from the beer, held Desmond's hand. They walked out into the throng of people. It was strange to find any comfort at all in Desmond but a familiar face was something Shaun needed now. Their hands were warm together.

Desmond grabbed Shaun's beer out of his hand and plucked a cheese knife off the table and started clanging on the glass. Everyone in the room looked up. In fact, a few people spilled in from other rooms.

Ezio looked up from where he was speaking to Altair.

"I wanna make an announcement.” Everyone hushed each other excitedly as Desmond gathered his words, “Uh, me and Shaun here are getting married!" Desmond yelled. There was a kind of gasp of excitement. Apparently, he hadn’t gathered too many.

Shaun cleared his throat and dragged Desmond down roughly so he could hiss into his ear, "Now? Are you serious? Give me back my beer."

He pulled it out of Desmond's hands, smile stretched across his face unbelievably wide.

Everyone was applauding loudly and cheering. Shaun saw Ziio clapping Conner's hands while he looked unamused. 

"A kiss! A kiss!" Ezio called out from the couch. The room went suddenly quiet. Desmond and Shaun looked at each other.

"Oh, um," Desmond started.

"We don't really--" Shaun tried to say, but he was cut off by Altair yelling,

"Just do it!"

"For your grandpapa," Ezio said and suddenly Desmond was grabbing Shaun's hand and planting a quick kiss on it.

Shaun held in the poisonous glare he wanted to deliver for being treated like a fucking princess in front of so many people he hasn't met before. Instead, he just tightened his jaw and tried to look like he was head over heels in love with the man on the end of his arm.

"Oh, give him a real one if you're going to do it!" Ziio called, sounding a little fed up. Desmond swallowed uncomfortably.

"We don't--" Shaun tried again, but Ezio banged his hand on the table.

"A real kiss. Come on!" He cheered. Desmond went for it. He just grabbed Shaun's face and pressed their lips together harshly, ready to get it over with.

Shaun yanked back after what felt like an eternity of waiting awkwardly for the tight lipped, super dry kiss to end.

"Oh like you mean it you idiots," Altair called. Conner cheered up at the inappropriate language and repeated ‘idiot’ back with vindictive joy.

Shaun grit his teeth and yanked Desmond in himself this time, on hand firm on the base of his neck and one fisted in the front if Desmond's shirt in a way Shaun hoped he recognized as threatening.

Shaun felt his chest catch fire and flush fill his face. He was kissing Desmond in front of his whole family.

He was kissing Desmond.

They were _kissing_.

He was vaguely aware of the guests cheering. But only vaguely. When they pulled apart it felt years too early.

Something in Shaun begged him to close the space between them again, to kiss like that one more time. Because that had been... Much better than he was expecting.

He cleared his throat and turned back to the gathering of people, smiling at everyone. 

"So," Ezio said, clasping his hands together. "Who proposed to who?"

Desmond and Shaun exchanged a look.

"Uh," Desmond said, obviously struggling to remember the lie they told Lucy. "Shaun. Shaun, baby cakes, tell them how you proposed."

"Well uh." Shaun coughed, straightening, "as you all know your Desmond's a really sensitive man, so I thought I'd do the classic route and not surprise him into an early grave."

Shaun had no idea if that was true. It was probably the exact opposite, but no one in the family knew how they acted together or what their relationship was like. So he might a well take a few liberties as penance for being slammed into this position with no warning.

Being slammed was not a phrase to be thinking about so soon after kissing Desmond.

"I took him to his favorite restaurant, what was it again, _love muffin_?"

Served him right for the baby cakes crack.

"Olive Garden," Desmond said, resigned.

Ezio dropped a glass, but Altair, standing beside him, caught it before it could shatter.

Shaun bit back a grin, "Yes, yes, of course, _Olive Garden_. Well I brought him there for dinner, after a long day of working and Desmond texting me every hour. He's a little clingy, but it's charming."

He took a sip from his beer, and that was his mistake, because Desmond took the opportunity to jump in.

"Shaun of course, is a klutz, so when he knelt down he neglected to notice he was sticking his foot out too far. A waiter dropped an entire tray of drinks, which spilt all over us," Desmond said, to laughter.

Shaun swallowed the bitter draft and pasted a sweet smile on his face.

"The both of us were soaked in alcohol and I was so glad, in that moment that Desmond's favorite restaurant isn't one that would ever put candles on a table. The whole place would have gone up. The blush in Desmond's face probably could have ignited it too, he was so red." Shaun patted Desmond's cheek affectionately, smacking a little harder than most couples would. "Like a delicate flower, Desmond is."

Ziio raised her eyebrows, staying quiet while Haytham chuckled under his breath. She smacked him on the hip and shot him a look and Haytham's snicker turned into a low cough.

“Well, even if it wasn’t the most romantic, it worked, didn’t it?” Ziio said. Suddenly all eyes on them were hungry again. Shaun swallowed.

“It certainly did,” he said, hoping they could now move on to a less dangerous topic. Thankfully, it seemed like the masses were content with a kiss and a romantic story, so they were left to their own devices once more. Which lasted for about three seconds before Shaun was swept around and introduced to various groups, everyone boisterous and delighted with the direction the party had turned.

When Shaun manage to catch a breath and Desmond at the same time he gave him a flirty smile, placed a hand on his chest and leaned in to whisper in his ear, "If you _ever_ put me on the spot like that again I will slowly destroy _any_ semblance of happiness in your life."

He then kissed his cheek, enforcing the flirty, light hearted act that the guests were intently not watching. 

"Pfft, good luck finding some left," Desmond mumbled. Shaun snorted at the melodrama as Desmond found his way into the kitchen.

When the last of the guests were finally ushered out the door Ziio came over to Shaun and smiled at him, personable and understanding.

"The Auditore family have absolutely no inhibitions about keeping a party going all night, though I personally think that's more Grandpa Ezio's fault than anyone else's."

Shaun smiled back, feeling more relaxed after a few beers. Relaxed enough to admit he really liked Ziio and her family, even Conner who had turned the entire house into an obstacle course the second he was told to go to sleep.

"Ziio, I've been wondering," Shaun began, tucking his hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall beside her, "why does everyone in the family have a different last name?"

She grinned at him, "you know who explains this best? Altair. He had the most practice."

Before Shaun could stop her she waved over the tall man and repeated Shaun's question.

Altair stumbled over and he listened to Ziio's question before laughing.

"None of Ezio's children are legitimate. And they chose to keep their mother's names," he explained.

"He's the best because the rest of us get caught up in the details," Ziio said with a wink.

Shaun smiled a little weakly, still not feeling one hundred percent safe around Altair, he hadn't forgotten the very convincing threat.

"Well, are you ready to go to bed then? Ezio and I can show you and Desmond your room."

"Ah... Room... Singular?"

Ziio laughed and gripped his shoulder. Tightly. "Shaun. None of us labour under any illusions about what newly engaged couples get up to."

It was at that moment that Desmond arrived, looking somewhat sour.

"We staying in the main house?" he asked Ziio.

"Well we aren't about to take your old room," Ziio remarked and started leading them there, gathering blankets piled high in her arms along the way.

"We're sleeping in Desmond's old room?" Shaun asked. Every moment they were here screamed horrible romantic comedy, one starring Sandra Bullock, probably.

"Don't worry, it's big," Desmond said, as Ziio pushed open the door. "But the one thing is that there's..." He gestured to the one double bed.

"There's what, Desmond?" Ziio asked.

"Not a great view," Desmond said. It was mostly trees, so he wasn't really lying that poorly.

Shaun laughed awkwardly and wished Ziio would leave already so they could hash out who would have the bed. It would be him.

"Don't worry there are plenty of other things for us to look at."

Ziio grinned like it was Christmas and only then did Shaun realize what he had said.

"Oh I... Uh." His eye were wide, "I meant--"

"The art, obviously. Shaun probably appreciates Grandpa's collection a lot more than I ever did," Desmond said. Ziio raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, but didn't say anything. She left them alone, and as soon as the door clicked shut Desmond heaved a sigh of relief.

Shaun groaned and dumped his suitcase on the bed, "seriously? Do I now have to pretend to care about art?"

The room was surprisingly tastefully decorated, given the chance Shaun would have guessed Desmond's style as 'anything and everything he liked thrown haphazardly anywhere' but there was a colour scheme and very little clutter.

"It's not that hard, jeez. Calm down a little. We're on fake vacation," Desmond snapped, dropping his suitcase on the floor.

"Oh yes my dearest dream is to be on vacation with the annoying barista from downstairs who doesn't understand how tea works." Shaun rolled his eyes and moved his folded clothing into the chest of drawers by the bed. An awkward silence overtook them both. Shuan finally gave in and asked, "Did you grow up here, then?"

"Huh? Oh, no, this was just the room I always had when I stayed here. I grew up on the--on a farm," Desmond said. "You want the right or the left?" He asked, gesturing to the bed.

"The whole thing," Shaun said, and straightened up, arms crossed ready for battle. "If I have to pretend to enjoy contemporary art you have to sleep on the floor. Or in the bathtub. Or something. I don't care-- either way the bed is mine."

"Dude, no," Desmond said, but his shoulders slumped.

"'Dude' yes. I'll let you have some pillows even, because deep down I'm a sweetheart." Shaun picked one up and tossed it at Desmond's face, at the point of exhaustion. "I'm going to change into my pajamas now, and you are going to get your floor bed ready."

Shaun realized, as he stripped, that he had packed for sleeping alone in a room, not with Desmond lying on the floor.

He huffed, took a moment to work out a worst case scenario, decided he didn't care, and pulled on his boxers and had to leave it at that.

He strode out of the bathroom and walked past Desmond, who was sorting out his floor nest.

"Whoa there, did you forget your pants?" Desmond snorted.

"No I just wasn't planning on sharing a room," Shaun bit back, fighting the urge to cover himself and strode confidentially to the bed, nose in the air. Desmond had already made a bed on the floor which felt slightly irrationally like a win.

"Nice tattoo, by the way," Desmond added. Shaun whirled around in surprise and Desmond snickered.

"Shut your idiot mouth Desmond," Shaun snapped, and yanked the covers back before sliding into bed, gritting his teeth. With any luck Desmond wouldn't question the meaning behind the small inked honeybee between his shoulder blades. 

"Okay, jeez. Just trying to take an interest in my future spouse," Desmond said. He laid down on the blankets. "Why a wasp?" He asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"It's a bee you-" Shaun swallowed the insult and rolled over in bed, switching off the side light and staying quiet. He wasn't about to give up the story of his mother to some guy who sold him shitty tea for months on end and then agreed to be his husband, even past the threat of the law and lying to his own family, and-

Maybe he owed him something.

"It's for my mom." He surprised himself with how rough his voice was, "She would always take honey in tea and on her scones and her toast. When she died I wanted something to remember her by."

He hadn't spoken to anyone about his mother in years, he didn't know anyone who would actually care.

"Must have been rough," Desmond said, voice low in the darkness.

“Yeah well.” Shaun’s throat was tight as he burrowed deeper under the covers. “It wasn’t easy. Now shut _up_ and go to sleep.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took longer kiddos!! ((Also sorry no meme link this time))


	7. It's Just Breakfast, It Wont Kill You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh… hey kids. Babbyspanch here. Guess whose laptop went to shit for two months??? mine. but also guess whose laptop is finally back in business?? also mine!! So we are going to get right back to rolling merrily along with this shit. Thank you for all being patient sweethearts and we hope the lustre hasn’t worn off after such a long wait!!!

Shaun woke up suddenly, eyes snapping wide as he inhaled sharply.

It took a second for his surroundings to sink in and to figure out why the hell he was waking up at five in the morning without an alarm.

He then realized it was his phone buzzing on the bedside table and that if he didn't answer it he would be in deep shit.

Snatching the phone and tapping the green button with much more force than was needed Shaun stumbled from the bed and promptly tripped over Desmond's left leg which was sprawled at a really impossible angle across the floor.

Cursing, but managing to catch himself, Shaun barked a panicked and slightly breathless, "Hello? Mr. Van Dyne! Hello!"

Van Dyne was one of the firm’s richest clients, the owner of a massive chain of auction houses that always seemed to be getting in trouble.

He was notorious for having a formidable temper when things didn't go his way and Shaun could forecast panic on the horizon because, of course, the reception was horrible here.

"Sorry Mr. Van Dyne-- you're breaking up I--" He would just have to go outside. "One second sir! No-- don't hang up!" He scurried to the door and avoided a pillow that was launched with frightening aim for someone burrowed so face deep in their pillows. "Oh suck it _up_ , Miles." He hissed and slid out of the room and downstairs, making it out the door and onto the lawn almost soundlessly.

"Mr Van Dyne? Yes I can hear you much better now-- is there some issue with the case?"

Shaun tightened his grip on his phone and cursed himself for not pulling on a pair of boots. The grass was wet and cold, especially after the warmth of the bed. He focused on the voice at the other end of the phone and did his best not to grumble aloud.  "Mr. Van Dyne I understand your concern about the outcome of this case but I assure you-- settling is _not_ the answer!" Shaun pinched the bridge of his nose as he marched around the yard, strides made powerful with his frustration.

Van Dyne didn't have trust in the system, he was always willing to pay out instead of continue fighting and that would be hell for his business if everyone thought they could get a free meal ticket to a few hundred thousand dollars when they had a small grievance.

Normally Shaun wouldn't care, but if Van Dyne pulled out the firm would lose a huge percent of their income.

"Listen to me. If you give in now, sooner or later you’ll find yourself giving in again, and then where are you going to be?"

Shaun spun on his heel and restrained a frustrated noise, “This is a _considerable_ sum of money, _sir_. If you let this go without a fight it will be bad for business. You're a smart man, Mr. Van Dyne-- I don't have to tell you cutting off your only source of income is not the best thing for your family."

Even though he just _had_.

He hated clients. Give him the facts of the case and a relevant law book and he could work magic. Interpersonal was not his strong suit.

Shaun became aware of a rustling in the bushes about two seconds too late to do anything about the small figure launching at him. In a blink, his hand was empty and Conner was standing at his feet, looking up at him in shock.

Shaun was completely and totally floored.

He stood frozen, hand still floating in the air by his ear clutching a cellphone that was no longer there. As the full implication of what happened hit him he lowered his hand

"Conner. Give that back. _Now_." Shaun's voice was dangerously low and even.

Conner blinked twice, then tore away from Shaun and across the grass, squealing as he went.

" _Conner!_ " Shaun bellowed before tearing after him, bare feet digging into the green turf on the ground, his robe flapping behind him as he chased Conner down. "Give that back! I have a very important call!"

Conner was smaller but that only meant he was more agile than Shaun-- rounding trees and rocks so fast that Shaun ended up skidding on the damp grass as he found himself unable to bank properly.

"Conner I swear to _god_!"

An exposed root caught Conner's toe and he slipped forward, hands flying open to catch himself-- And the phone flying for his hands and into the lake. It landed with a soft ‘sploosh’.

As Shaun was making a muddy fool of himself outside, two figures stood watching the running pair from inside the house.

***

"Look at that. They're playing tag," Ziio smiled and sipped from her massive coffee mug-- bright orange with red cherries on it. "It's strange... I didn't take Shaun as someone who liked kids. He seemed uncomfortable with Conner last night,” she said.

"But look now, they're getting along so well. He must just have been shy," Ezio said. Padding out of the kitchen barefoot with a mug of coffee, Desmond wandered over to see what his grandpa and aunt were looking at. He peered over their shoulders to see Shaun chasing Conner around the grass and stifled a groan.

Ziio looked over with a grin at her son in law, "Your fiancé is really sweet with Conner, Desmond."

***

Shaun was again shocked. "Was that... Is my phone in the lake?" he asked, voice hollow. He leaned back onto his heels and crouched, head in his hands, "Van Dyne is going to kill me. My _boss_ is going to kill me."

He could feel the stirrings of hysteria gathering just under his ribs. Probably sensing an out, Conner dashed away.

Shaun sat on the cold and wet ground as his world came crashing down. “I’m going to get _fired_.”

"It's cute that you're playing with Conner," he said. Desmond had emerged from the house holding two cups of coffee and a smug expression. Shaun made a strangled noise. "Yeah, I know you weren't. But my grandpa and aunt are watching us. Here, I brought you tea," Desmond offered the mug.

"He stole my phone and then threw it in the lake. I was talking to Mr Van Dyne." He meets Desmond's eyes, "Desmond-- I'm going to be _fired_! I'm going to have to sell everything I own all because your kid cousin thought he'd play at being a fucking ninja!"

His throat was tight and he felt like he was getting no fresh air. Shakily, he rose to his feet.

He swiped the coffee mug and felt unreasonably bitter about Desmond not caring enough about him to get Shaun a drink he liked. More fucking coffee.

"Shaun, calm down. We'll just order you a new phone. We can pick it up in town tomorrow," Desmond said.

"We can?" Shaun asked. Hope flared in his chest and he let go of his anger a little. He had seen Conner trip, he knew it wasn't on purpose.

He took a sip of his drink.

It was tea.

Shaun looked up and met Desmond's eyes, not sure what to say.

"Now hug me so we look like a proper couple," Desmond said. He wrapped his arms around Shaun, who willingly accepted the hug, mostly out of shock. Desmond waved to Ezio and Ziio. Then he squeezed Shaun's ass with his free hand.

"Mmm. This is nice," he said.

"Hand. _Off_. Ass." Shaun said quietly right into Desmond's ear. His skin was warm against Desmond's and he pushed back out of his arms with a deadpan look. " _Now_." Desmond let go, and Shaun looked up to see Ezio and Ziio waving and smiling.

"Come get breakfast," Desmond said, letting go. An attempt at a peace offering, Shaun supposed. Desmond waved to Ezio and Ziio and then started heading back to the house. He paused and turned around. "Come on Shaun. It's just breakfast, it won't kill you."

" _You_ might." He mutters angrily under his breath but trudged to the house after Desmond, sipping from his tea very few steps.

Ziio beamed at Shaun when he entered the house and he felt another pang of guilt for his anger at her son, no matter how little he meant it.

"Shaun-- Ezio and I were talking and we think we should take you out! A real bachelor party-- the best Placid Lake can offer." Ziio patted Shaun's cheek, "and don't even try to think of a way to get out of it. I'm married to Haytham Kenway-- I know all the tricks."

Desmond snickered at him, a little meanly, but was cut off by William's sudden appearance in the doorway.

"Desmond, a word, if you would," he said. It hardly had the cadence of a question.

"We're in the middle of breakfast," Desmond tried, and Ziio was pulling Shaun to his feet, insisting they were going to have a great time. Begrudgingly, Desmond got up, shrugged a vague goodbye to Shaun and let his father lead him away.

Shaun couldn't resist Ziio's sharp looks and followed after her as she leaned into the study to grab Haytham. Quite literally, as he was vehemently opposed to leaving whatever he was working on.

"Ziio you know this information is time sensitive I can't just abandon--"

"You aren't abandoning, you are taking a quick break for a few hours, from which you will come back refreshed and ready to work even harder."

She winked at Shaun as her hand tightened on her husband’s arm and shut the solid wood door behind them, "See-- all the tricks." She whispered as they strode down the hall.

Shaun sat in the back of the car, crammed between a grumbling Haytham and Conner who tried to stay as physically far from him as possible. Which, yes, made him feel like a living, breathing pile of garbage. Ziio had insisted on driving and Ezio had play the old man card when he lost the shotgun game to Conner, who wasn't strictly allowed in the from seat anyway.

Shaun had never felt more awkward in his life.

***

Altair shut the door of the study once Haytham was gone. No one said anything. Desmond huffed in exasperation.

"Just say it, Dad," he said. William raised his eyebrows slightly, but he unfolded his arms.

"I need you for this mission. There's no one else," he said. Desmond looked at the floor. He didn't understand how Altair could bear being used so easily. How he could let William treat him like a tool and nothing more, and not feel hurt, not even feel angry. But duty was the one part of the creed Altair had never ignored.

"Fine," Desmond said, glaring at the floor, hands clenched into fists. He went for the door then, but William stopped him, hand tight on his shoulder.

"I haven't even told you the details."

"It's not today, right? I'm going to train. I'd hate to fuck up your precious mission because I wasn't in shape." With that, he left the room. He was out of the house by the time he calmed down enough to notice Altair had followed him.

"What we do is important," he said, a slight hint of reproach in his tone.

"I know," Desmond huffed. "I just wish we were important too. I wish we weren't _just_ assassins to him." To this, Altair said nothing. They went out to the barn where they had played when they were small, and they trained in companionable, almost strained silence.

***

"Dad, I can pick the names right?" Conner insisted, tugging on Haytham's jacket while they waited for Ziio to help Ezio out of the car and into the parking lot of a bowling alley. Ziio and Haytham exchanged a look.

"You can pick yours and your father's" Ziio eventually said.

Haytham had the look of someone who was taking on an immense burden and it gave Shaun a sudden idea.

"If you like Conner, you can pick mine too." It was a tentative olive branch, and judging by the shift in Haytham’s expression to one of suppressed delight, a very stupid olive branch, but it would hopefully help to mend the rift between him and Conner.

The bowling alley smelled like old leather and older grease, the scent wafting over from the fast “food” place. Shaun, Haytham and Ziio rented some shoes while Ezio (who apparently never played) and Conner (who was too small) set up the score machine.

Shaun laced up his shoes the slowest, lingering by the rental window. Oh god, Desmond was going to make fun of him so much for this. He had been such a dick, which wasn't exactly new, but part of him really _did_ want to make this family like him. He really wanted to be liked.

Squashing his new incredibly soppy thoughts, he sat down at the red plastic table painted like Mars that Conner had rushed to the instant they were inside.

Haytham sighed as he read over the names, "You better tell us who's who Conner."

"Mom is mom," Conner said, pointing to the screen. "I'm butt and dad is turd. You can be snot," Conner said, pointing to Shaun and grinning widely. Ezio was smiling vacantly, like he was an innocent old man who had nothing to do with this.

"Not the kind of stage names most people expect at a bachelor party." He cleared his throat, " _Thank you_ for putting my name in Conner."

"I can't believe I'm turd _again_." Haytham huffed, pulling Conner too his side. "What makes your mother so special she gets to have a normal name? Hm?" He started tickling Conners sides, "Are you saying you love her more than me?"

"Of course he does," Ziio said primly as Conner screeched with laughter, "but he at least has you programmed to roll first."

Haytham stood up and left Conner laying on the bench, panting with slowing laughter. "In that case, we should get this game started."

Over the course of the game Haytham tried to steal people's turns and Conner tried six different bowling poses, half of which involved one leg off the ground-- which actually seemed to work better. Ziio got fourteen strikes and Ezio ordered a massive plate of nachos for everyone which he ate half of before Ziio smacked his hand away.

Shaun at first tried to lose for Conner but he slowly realized how good Conner actually was in the game. When he finally caught on to what was happening Conner had an insurmountable lead and the game finished with Conner losing only to Ziio.

They high fived as Haytham grumbled about how he was 'off his game today'. Shaun stretched and smiled at everyone, finding it surprisingly unforced.

"I'm going to go get some fresh air, someone can take my turn until I get back."

He hoped it was Ziio.

Thick, grey clouds had rolled in while they had been playing--they looked heavy with rain and like if they got any lower to the ground they’d spill open on the tops of buildings. The wind had picked up too and a few empty grocery bags dragged across the parking lot.

Shaun situated himself on the one bike rack, the wind ruffling his hair, and took a long deep breath. It was strange being alone after being so wrapped up in a family for the last few hours.

The doors to the bowling alley opened behind him with a scraping noise and Ezio came through them. He stumbled slightly, and Shaun jumped up to help him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Ezio assured him, trying to wave him off.

Shaun hovered one hand under Ezio’s elbow and motioned with the other to the picnic bench a few feet away. "That might be more comfortable."

Shaun sat on the bench and Ezio sat beside him, breath huffing out from his lungs for a moment.

Shaun opened his mouth and then closed it again, not wanting to be rude. He then wondered when he had ever been overly concerned with being rude and went ahead and asked his question.

"Are you dying?"

"Not right now. Well, not right yet. I'll be better after the surgery," Ezio said, leaning on his knees before looking up at Shaun with a lopsided grin. "You really hit the jackpot with Desmond you know. He’s funny, and I knew Desmond was a good kid, but I don't think I ever realized he’s so selfless."

"Oh?" Shaun kept the skepticism out of his voice the best he could. Desmond was an okay guy, he was doing this charade for him. But he was getting paid for it, there was no way he would do this for Shaun otherwise. Granted, Shaun Hastings probably meant a lot less to Desmond than his own grandfather. Especially since Ezio was a far better person than Shaun in all respects.

"There was no way to pay for my surgery without selling the house. All the money the family has these days is in property, and everyone would hate to lose this place. Especially Desmond.” He shook his head, sadness creeping into his eyes, “Still though, I couldn't believe when he offered to pay for it. I can't even imagine where he got the money. It must be his life savings." Ezio shook his head and sighed. "I wanted to say no, but he wouldn't hear of it."

Shaun was a man with no family and no friends, and a career in the most bloodsucking job possible, barring politician. And now he was lying to an innocent, ridiculous, far too accepting family. Most people were better people than Shaun Hastings.

Apparently on that list was Desmond Miles. On the top of the list. Bolded and underlined three times.

"I..." Shaun had no idea what to say, "I'm glad he's putting his money towards a good cause." He said, smile shaky as he stared out past a tall building and to the lake beyond.

"If you can call it that," Ezio chuckled, clapping Shaun on the shoulder. Shaun let out a startled cough. He was strong for a sickly old man.

"I'm heading back in for the second game-- are you coming?" Ezio asked.

Shaun raised an eyebrow. "So I can get my ass kicked by a six year old again?" He paused and stood, "Yeah, I'm in."

***

The car ride back was considerably less awkward than the ride there. Ziio and Ezio seemed to have reached some sort of agreement about the radio, the rolled down windows let in rushes of spring air and most shockingly and surprisingly, Conner drooped onto Shaun's shoulder and fell asleep.

Shaun caught his breath and wrapped his arm around Conner’s shoulders, smiling. Ziio grinned after catching sight of the two in the rear view mirror. "You know Shaun, we have a test in this family."

Shaun stiffened and looked up to Ziio,"oh-- really?"

"Yeah. It's called the Conner test. If he likes you, then you're in." Haytham leaned over. "At one point I was almost kicked out. I took away the letter opener he was playing with and he wouldn't talk to me for two and a half weeks."

Shaun fought down a smile and pressed his hand into Conner’s hair for a moment.

"Oh, that's not good," Ezio said as Ziio started pulling up to the house. They rolled past Desmond, who was wielding an axe and going to town on log. Altair was sitting nearby, eating an apple and looking kind of sour.

"What's not good? What's wrong with chopping wood?" Shaun asked as the car drew to a stop outside the house.

Ziio's lips tightened and she unlocked the car, everyone filing out Conner in Shaun's arms. "It's his tell. He fought with William."

"Ah." Shaun frowned and handed Conner to Haytham. "I'll just uh... Go shower then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Milkteeth here, I’m not sorry. Here’s your meme:  
> http://memeshappen.com/media/created/-I39m-a-simple-man-I-like-pretty-dark-haired-women-and-breakfast-food-meme-4634.jpg


	8. Start The Boat

Shaun sighed a he eased out of his clothes, which smelled a disturbing amount like bowling alley, and turned on the shower, watching the hot water cascade down to the floor. Rolling his shoulders he got into the stall and located a loofah.

The shower gel smelled of pine and cinnamon and he rubbed it over his tense muscles, the hot water helping remove the grime of bowling alley.

Shaun sighed and let the tension soothe out of his body. It was nice to have some time alone with his thoughts after spending so much time surrounded on all sides by people.

He rinsed off the shampoo in his hair and let himself have a few moments more to himself before he had to go and face his lie again.

Shaun frowned suddenly. He hadn't brought a towel.

***

Desmond watched the car roll past and put another piece of wood on the chopping block, splintering it in half. He sighed, slammed the axe into the chopping block and pulled his shirt off.

"I'm going to take a shower," he told Altair, who nodded disinterestedly.

Desmond pushed his headphones in as he approached the house and pumped the volume up. Somewhere in the back of his mind his father's voice was warning him that a deaf assassins was a dead assassin, but he ignored it. The chances of being ambushed were low. He snuck up the backstairs, planning to shower off his rage and sweat.

Desmond strode out onto the balcony of his room and stripped off his shirt without pulling out his headphones. He leaned on the railing for a minute, looking out over the yard. Maybe he was just being a spoiled kid, yelling at his father for no reason. But it didn't feel like no reason.

Desmond stepped back into the room and stripped off his pants, glancing back out at the sky and running a hand through his hair. He turned to walk into the bathroom and noticed absentmindedly that the door was shut.

Nodding his head still to the beat of his music, he pulled the door open. Before he could take a step inside, a wet body slammed into him, and, in the horror and shock of it all, the two of them went tumbling to the floor.

"Oh. My god. Why are you wet?" Desmond cried, trying not to feel dick on his leg but there was kind of no way to ignore it. He wanted to scramble out from under Shaun but he didn't know how to go about it without making everything worse.

"Why are _you_ naked!" Shaun screeched. Shaun wasn’t getting up, but he seemed to be desperately trying to clamber off. Shaking his head quickly Shaun shoved again trying to get his arms under him. His hands were wet and that combined with a hardwood floor meant his efforts sent him slipping back onto Desmond's chest with an 'oomf' of expelled air.

"Ung," Desmond grunted, and decided he might as well take action, putting both hands on Shaun's shoulders and pushing him off. He scrambled up as soon as he was free, grabbing a pillow to cover himself and looking away to spare Shaun the indignity.

Shaun slipped and stumbled to his feet, "I was taking a _shower_ you bumbling--” He spluttered for a moment, “Why are you even that buff you're a fucking barista to you need to grate the chocolate sprinkles on your abs or-?"

Desmond cast around for an excuse that didn't involve him blurting out: “I am also an assassin.”

"I do parkour, jeez," he said, snatching a towel off of the shelf an escaping into the bathroom. Once inside he leaned back against the door and sighed quietly. His cheeks were on fire.

There was a hammering at the door and a shrill voice screamed, "You asshole! That's the only towel!"

***

After a strained dinner where Desmond refused to even look at William and Ziio frustratedly tried to convince Conner to eat his peas Shaun and his fake fiancé retired to their rooms once more. Now Shaun was lying in bed, the comforter pulled up to his collarbone and his arms crossed on top of it.

"Why do you and your dad fight so much?" Shaun asked the darkness.

Desmond imagined Shaun couldn't hear his breath hitch. Probably not. They were far enough apart. He stared up at the ceiling and tried to think about an answer that would make sense, but not give anything away.

"He doesn't think what I do matters, unless it’s what he wants me to do," he finally said. Then he waited, heart thumping, for Shaun to respond. _Why am I so worried_ , he asked himself. _Why do I even care what Shaun thinks?_ There was an answer lurking there, in his head somewhere, but he didn't really want to hear it.

"I know how that works," He said finally, very quietly. And then, after a long silence, "Is anyone else on your side?"

Desmond glanced over to the window. The silence between questions and answers settled heavy in the room, but he needed the time to think. He hadn't really thought about support. He guessed in a way, Altair supported him. Quietly. But he wasn't about to take a stand against their dad. None of the assassins ever were.

Desmond remembered the training room, his lip bleeding, and his father's hands on his shoulders.

_"You have to be tougher than this,"_ he'd said. Desmond was seven. Even then, William was more teacher than parent. He still remembered what he had said.

_"What if I don't want to be an assassin?" He still remembered what William replied._

_"It doesn't matter. You will be."_

In the dark, Desmond worried his lower lip between his teeth, feeling the raised skin of the scar. William's support didn't mean everything to him. Hell, some days it meant next to nothing. But without it, he felt like he could never really be a success. He'd never really be part of the family. So he told Shaun what William had told him.

"It doesn't matter." And when the silence grew heavy again. "What about you? Did your dad want a lawyer?"

Shaun snorted, "Lawyer-- he wanted, gay son? Not so much."

Desmond immediately regretted the question. But somehow now that he had started it seemed hard to stop. He intuited something.

"Is that why you live here now?" He asked.

"In a roundabout way..." Shaun muttered.

Shaun then tumbled into a story about how his mother was the only thing keeping him in the house when he came out. About when she died the instant the funeral was over his dad forced him out, allowing him just enough time to pack half his belongings.

"The week after I left I found out he froze my funds. I bought a ticket to the US with the money I had withdrawn before hand and set off with an LLB to my name and three suits." He huffed out a breath of air into the stillness of their room. "I got a message last year that he had died. Left me absolutely nothing, not even my mum's things. He donated it all." Shaun forced himself to stop talking to fill the silence.

Desmond let out a breath finally. He hasn't realized until Shaun finished talking, but he'd been holding it. Like he did seconds before a kill, when his whole body was tensed up. It felt kind of like dying. Sympathetic dying, he sort of thought of it as.

He wanted to say, I guess we both got fucked up pretty badly by our dads. But then he might have to explain. He wanted to say, you didn't deserve that. You're too good to be torn up over someone who didn't deserve to call himself a parent.

Instead he just said, "I'm sorry."

He said it to the blanket of darkness covering it. The moment was gone. The time for admitting had ended.

***

Shaun's eyes snapped open as he heard footsteps approaching his an Desmond's room. That was bad, his sleepy brain registered slowly.

He sat straight up in bed once he realized _why_ it was bad. He grabbed one of the harder throw pillows from the bed and whipped it at Desmond's head, who was fast asleep and snoring on the floor.

"Desmond if you don't wake up this instant I swear to _god!_ " He whispered hoarsely.

Desmond jerked awake, throwing his arms out as if to protect himself from the attacker.

" _Desmond!_ " He hissed furiously, "get in the bed! _Now!_ "

Desmond opened his mouth, eyes still sleepy and confused.

“No! No questions! just get under the covers." He grabbed Desmond by the back of his shirt and jerked him up out of the nest of blankets.

Desmond stumbled across the floor and seemed to decide to just give up. Whatever was happening was now out of his hands. Shaun shoved him into the bed and then jumped in beside him, throwing the covers over them.

"What's going on?" Desmond started to whisper, but then they heard knocking, and he stopped.

Shaun snuggled in deep into Desmond's chest and grabbed his arm pulling it tight around his shoulders, "come in!" He called, making his voice sleepy sounding and ignoring how warm Desmond was.

Ziio came in the door, tray laden with breakfast food in her arms. Ezio followed close behind her, bright purple carpet slippers a little shocking to the eyes.

“Breakfast time for the happy couple!” she sing-songed.

Shaun smiled and laughed uncomfortably. "That's us! _Happy_ couple!"

Ziio beamed at the both of them and placed a tray of breakfast food over their laps. "We have something we wanted to talk to you about."

"Since you're here with the whole family--"

"--Which happens so rarely," Ezio added pointedly, making Desmond look down at the sheets, slightly red at the ears.

"We were thinking that--"

"You could get married this weekend! Here, in the barn out back," Ezio cried.

"Oh! I-oh!" Shaun was frozen in shock and he felt fizzled all the way down to his fingers. "A barn wedding! In a _barn_!"

He would have to marry Desmond. He would have to marry Desmond this weekend. In front of his entire family.

"Um, I don't know, I mean we _just_ got engaged--" Desmond started to say, but he was cut off by Ezio.

"It's just that, with the operation and everything... I worry that I won't have much time. I hate to think of missing your wedding," Ezio said.

"Grandpa what are you talking about? We would just wait," Desmond stammered out.

"It's not that Desmond. I mean I might not have so much time left... On earth."

Ziio nodded solemnly and Shaun felt the blood rush from his face, "well uh. Some things are just.. Are just meant to happen at certain times. And uh-- maybe, maybe one of those things is--?"

Ziio shot Shaun the most scalding look he had ever been on the receiving end of, "Are you suggesting Ezio should die before the wedding because of fate..?"

"No! _God,_ no!" He really could think of no way out of this. At the moment that was. A plan could easily fall into place later. "I meant for us to have-- have a lovely barn wedding!"

Ezio grinned the kind of grin only a crusty old man who knew he would get his way all along could grin. Shaun tried to smile back, at least for Ziio, until they had hurried out of the room to ‘start planning’.

Desmond heaved a deep, heavy sigh.

Shaun promptly shoved Desmond off the bed.

"What the hell Desmond! Why didn’t you say anything! Why not just tell them to get the adoption process started too-- huh?"

Shaun realized yelling at a guy who landed on the floor was mean. But so was dangling a future and a family in front of someone who had never and would never have one.

Desmond picked himself up off the floor, glare on his face, "What did you want me to say? He's not even your grandpa and you couldn't say no to him, how was _I_ supposed to?"

"He's your family! You have to know his weaknesses!" Shaun groaned and covered his face. "Whatever. We have to focus on a way of getting out of it. I'm thinking I have an urgent meeting with the firm and I have to go ASAP or lose thousands of dollars."

"Calm down your royal highness. We will come up with a plan when we go into town, your replacement phone has gotta have arrived by now," Desmond said, getting up off the floor and wandering across the room to find pants.

"Well about time really." Shaun got out of bed and pulled out his clothes from his suitcase, "that will be perfect then. I'll get my phone  and we will come back here and say I got all of my messages at once and there's a huge emergency and I have to leave right away."

It was perfect. Shaun was finally able to breath. Everything would work out alright. For some reason it was making him the saddest he had felt during the whole trip. "I'm going to take a shower. Go bathe in the lake or whatever you people do."

He quickly shut the bathroom door before Desmond could get a word in edgewise. And he was careful to bring towels this time.

***

Shaun drummed his fingers on the counter, impatient at the thought of getting his phone. He needed an update on the Van Dyne case as soon as possible. The instant he got his phone he could pretend there was an emergency-- and for all he knew there could be-- and then he could get the hell out of this perfect family portrait. Back to his apartment and his loneliness in New York.

Desmond was picking up granola bars and juice and sliding them onto the counter while the clerk retrieved and set up the phone. Shaun was practically vibrating.

"Calm down, you can get away from us soon enough," Desmond said quietly.

Shaun forced his body to stop moving and he grit his teeth.

"Never soon _enough_ ," he hissed through his teeth. It was cruel and a complete lie but it might get Desmond to withdraw the amount Shaun needed in order to get his feet back under him. Hearing Desmond be almost kind was making things even harder.

Glancing at the bars on the counter he realized they were the kind he always grabbed at Desmond's counter when he missed breakfast.

He instantly felt even more shitty.

"Alright, here you go," the guy behind the counter said, handing the phone to Shaun. Desmond paid for their purchases. His phone started ringing in his pocket.

"It's Rebecca," he said, pulling it out to check and then pressing accept.

Shaun grabbed his new phone and started pressing buttons to look very busy and unconcerned with what Desmond was doing. Messages started flowing into his inbox and he quickly called his voicemail and lead Desmond outside of the store.

"Shaun! Just the man we were looking for!" A voice cried from nearby. Ezio loomed, close with Ziio by his side. They were both grinning.

"Desmond won't mind if we borrow you for a little while," Ziio said.

"Yeah I think you're right about that," Shaun said, forcing the bitterness out of his voice. "Uhm- what exactly do you need me for?" Shaun ran through everything that he was good at. It took a disparagingly short amount of time. "You don’t need legal advice do you?" he asked, genuinely worried. Normally when he asked that question it was because he hated providing free consultation. Now it was because he was worried this family actually needed it.

"Oh hoho. No. This is something for you," Ezio said, almost menacingly. He took Shaun's arm and Ziio took the other and somehow they marched him off into a suit shop before he realized what was happening.

He looked behind him at Desmond who waved cheerily.

Shaun froze as soon as the sign came into view.

"Oh no. _No no no_." He was bodily dragged into the store.  "Are you guys serious? You're doing a suit fitting?"

"Well you're getting married tomorrow, what were you expecting!" Ziio laughed, joy very real on her face. She was so happy and it broke Shaun's heart.

"I was thinking I could just wear a tie...?"

"Absolutely not! No son in law of mine will look anything but his best on his wedding day."

So they shuffled him into the shop and pulled out this ancient suit that surely someone's grandfather got married in and it all seemed so dumb especially when he put it on right up until the moment Ezio said,

"I got married in those suit, you know."

"You were a little broader in the shoulders than Shaun," Ziio laughed.

Shaun had to swallow and look at the ceiling for a second. He was lying to these people. As soon as they found out... But it didn't matter. They weren't Shaun's family and try never would be. He'd be leaving tonight anyway, he reminded himself. They would hate him anyway.

"Yeah I inherited my mum’s slight build." He laughed. It was harder than he expected. His instinct was to be horrible and rude to them, push them away so it would be less of a betrayal when he left. But Shaun was fundamentally selfish. All someone had to do was look at his current situation and they'd come to the same conclusion.

So Shaun wasn't rude. He soaked up their attention as much as he could manage.

Then it all fell apart. Ezio vanished into a back room for a moment, and returned with a box. He opened it, showing Shaun what was inside. Plain, silver cuff links.

"I got married in these, too," Ezio told him, his tone no longer joking. "I want you to wear them and pass them down to Conner when he gets hitched."

"Oh," Shaun felt tears welling up and there was no way to do anything about them. "I... That's very..." He couldn't force through the tears. They were running now, dripping off his chin.

Ziio saw and brushed them away, "Shaun what is it? I know they're a little plain..."

"I've never had a family really." He admitted quietly.

"You have one now," Ezio said, without hesitation. That was the final straw.

 

***

Desmond zipped up his jacket and sighed. It was kind of breezy out on the lake, warm as it was at the shore.

Rebecca had hung up when her taxi arrived. She was excited to see him. In a kind of begrudging, ‘I don't trust this boy’ way. The boat bobbed gently in the water.

He wondered what was taking Shaun so long. With Ezio and Ziio, it could be anything.

“Desmond!” Came a scream over the wind. He looked up, startled. “Start the boat!”

Desmond started the boat out of shock and instinct. He was used to getaways at this point. Shaun came hurtling into the boat, tripping up to him and grabbing Desmond's jacket to steady himself.

"What's going on?" He yelled over the roar of the motor, but to his horror Shaun was trying to grab the wheel from him.

"Let me drive! You won't be fast enough!" Shaun yelled and pulled into the lake, somehow revving the engine.

The boat roared away from the dock and Desmond clutched side to avoid being swept off.

"Are you crazy? You don’t know how to drive a boat!" Desmond yelled over the engine and the water. Shaun was... He almost looked like he'd been crying.

“Shut up! It’s probably mostly instinctual!” Shaun wiped his eyes quickly. _It’s definitely not instinctual,_ Desmond thought. Years of wet socks after Grandpa Ezio’s boating lessons had made that very clear.

"Would you mind letting me in on where we're going? Or who we're running away from?" Desmond yelled. Lake water was spraying him in the face. Shaun didn't seem bothered by it. Rather, he seemed bothered by everything at once, probably making the lake water inconsequential.

"Shut up-- I don't run away! I mean shit, I do, but--”

They were veering around like crazy. Desmond toppled over into the middle of the boat, and quickly scrambled back to his feet.

"Fuck, Shaun, would you just tell me what's wrong?" he cried.

"I _forgot_ , alright!" Shaun yelled, voice breaking on the last word. "I forgot what it was like to have a family! People who care about you and make you dinner! Who invite you to get married in their barn so they don't miss it! And then give you the _ancestral fucking cuff links_ so you can be part of their history!" Tears were running down his cheeks. His hands shook. "I haven't had anyone since I was twenty three and my dad found out I was gay." Shaun turned to glance at Desmond, "I just… You know they love you, right?"

Desmond glanced back at the lake. What was he supposed to say to that? Of course he knew they loved him. But... There was so much he couldn't tell Shaun and it was so stupid and then there was his dad. And Shaun had let go of the wheel.

"Yeah, I do. I know they love me," he said finally.

Shaun hung his head.

“What are we supposed to do when they find out? How am I supposed to even look your grandfather in the eye?”

"He's not going to find out! Okay? I agreed to this! Just trust me," Desmond yelled. Then he realized that Shaun had let go of the wheel. He practically leapt across the boat to grab it and steered them around before they could run into the dock or another boat or something equally bad.

"Look, I know what I'm doing, Shaun," Desmond said. There was no response. "Shaun?" He looked around. Shaun was not in the boat. "Oh, _ass_ ," Desmond said.

Desmond looking around searching wildly. "Shaun!" He cried out. There was no answer. " _Shaun_!" He yelled a second time.

Shaun surfaced and screamed the best he could, "Desmond!" Before he was dragged back under.

"Shaun!" Desmond cried, catching sight of him and turning the boat around so he could pull up beside Shaun and haul his soaking wet ass into the boat.

Shaun hacked his way through a coughing fit, shaking from the icy water soaking his clothes. "D-Desmond," he stuttered, shaking and grabbing at his arms.

"Take your shirt off," Desmond commanded, steering the boat towards the lake house and unbuttoning his own shirt.

"Wha- are you _serious_? _No_!"

Desmond rolled his eyes and pulled off his own shirt. "You want to freeze to death?" He asked. "Trade me."

"I-oh." Shaun chattered out, before peeling off his sodden t shirt. He dropped it to the deck of the boat with a wet _foowhp_.

Desmond helped Shaun pull on the shirt he'd just removed and then turned back, adjusting the course of the boat and slowing it. There was a blanket in one of the compartments if he was remembering correctly.

Desmond opened one hurriedly and breathed in relief as he dragged out the blanket, to wrap it around Shaun's shoulders. He started rubbing Shaun’s arms to warm him up.

"Don't... Just... Don't do that again, okay?" He said.

"Oh I don't know Desmond--" he leaned into Desmond, letting his head flop on his shoulder, it felt really far too nice, "I figured it would be a fun idea to do it again. A repeat performance maybe, charge double for tickets." His teeth chattered and he shut his eyes.

Desmond rolled his eyes. It was just like Shaun to start joking at a time like this. Desmond tightened his hands around Shaun's shoulders. That was too close. And he was someone who has lived through a lot of close shaves. He didn't want to get up, but after a minute or two he had to let go to ensure the boat stayed on course. He wanted to get onto dry land as soon as possible.

When Desmond hopped over the side to tie the boat off he looked back at Shaun, who hadn't budged an inch.

He held his hands out, beckoning him.

"I got you," he said, the way Ezio used to say to him, when Desmond climbed too high and couldn't get down.

"Thanks," Shaun muttered, "but I'm not a swooning damsel."

"Whatever you say, madam," Desmond said, hurrying up the ladder before Shaun could say anything in reply.

Shaun visibly fought down a smile. "Careful, people might start realizing how scared of me you are." Shaun said smugly stepping down beside Desmond and starting the small hike past the boat house and to the actual house.

"I'm not scared of anything," Desmond said loudly. But he kept his distance. When they got closer to the house he spotted Rebecca, sitting on the front porch drinking a beer.

"Desmond!" She yelled. He hurried up the last stretch to hug her, glancing back to make sure Shaun was still following him and hasn't managed to fall down a hole or something.

Shaun shlopped wetly to Desmond's side and said in a tired voice, "I'm going to go change."

"Ok see you," Desmond said. Rebecca gave him a look. "What?"

"What happened to _him_?"

"He fell off the boat."

"Lover's spat?"

"Hardly," Desmond scoffed. "More like Shaun being out of control."

"You're not the tiniest bit excited about the wedding?" Rebecca wheedled.

"No," Desmond said, looking at his hands. He was picking the paint off the deck and he was aware, almost keenly aware that Rebecca could always tell when he was lying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NlWCLw75XnE
> 
> xoxox to all yall sorry we have been taking our time with these later ones-- hope everyone's new year is going great!!!


	9. Don't Look at my Fucking Boner While We Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood. Tears. Romance? Mom? Police. Fleeing the scene. Crashing on your couch for two weeks because technically I'm in looooooove with youuuu.  
> It's like an O.C. season finale. But better. Because we got Grandpa Ezio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Altair's phone is Motorola Krzr, it's gold and the screen broken and has been repaired several times with duct tape and hot glue. There's blood on it but he's not telling anyone whose it is.

Shaun sighed softly as he struggled out of his wet clothes and into his warmest clean ones. He desperately wanted to just lie down in bed but he knew if he did that it would lead to either sleep or crying and he really, _really_ , did not want to do either of those things.

Shaun closed the door to their room quietly and walked out into the backyard. It was massive and the grass was thick under his feet. Sunlight filtered down in yellow fistfuls as Shaun quickly strode through the trees. Everything was quiet. No quacking or even rustles in the underbrush met his ears. Shaun knew in just a day it would be a completely different story. The yard would be full of people he had hardly met as they drank and laughed and celebrated a union of love. Shaun snorted and stopped in front of the broad doors of a well-kept barn, the deep red paint only chipping in the most weathered place.

It was strange to think that after years being convinced he would never be married he was about to set foot into the stage for his wedding ceremony.

He rolled his eyes and pushed open the double doors before stopping dead in his tracks.

“Lucy?”

***

"So how is it really? With Shaun?" Rebecca asked, smacking Desmond's hand away from where he was pulling paint off the deck.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Desmond snorted. "He's paying me for a fake wedding and I'm gonna give him one. In front of my whole family, apparently."

“Desmond we _both_ know how stubborn you are. Look at the stuff with your dad, for god’s sake.” Desmond snorted and kicked at the white step below them. Desmond looked up as Rebecca placed a soft hand on his arm, “Des. We both know you wouldn’t go through with this if a part of you wasn’t--”

Desmond stood abruptly. “He’s paying enough for Ezio’s surgery, Rebecca. That’s all the reason I need.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes but raised her hands in submission, “Okay, okay. God forbid you Miles men have _feelings_.”

“So,” Desmond said, louder than he needed to, “When did you get a new car? It’s a little pricy for your standards, isn’t it? Where’s your ‘87 Honda Civic? Did it finally give up the ghost?”

Rebecca huffed and crossed her arms, “I parked it on the other side of the house, that one was here when I showed up. I figured it was Shaun’s and you guys drove up.”

“No we… We took a flight.”

“Then…” Rebecca frowned, “Who’s car is that?”

Desmond didn't respond, he was already running.

***

"Oh! Shaun! Just who I was looking for. Where is your _loving_ fiancé?"

Shaun couldn't force a sound past the initial shocked outcry of her name. He stood there, his mouth hanging open and arms useless and limp at his sides hating every second of it.

 _I’m a_ lawyer _god damn it! I should be able to think on my feet_ , he chastised himself.

"Loving? I think not,” William snorted, emerging from inside the barn like some half assed supervillain, “Look, I don't know what you told Desmond, or offered or blackmailed him with, but I've spoken to Lucy here, and if you agree to leave, and go back to Britain, and admit that you _lied_ , then no one has to go to jail," William said flatly. "I'm sure you don't want to go to jail as much as I don't want my son to."

It was so strange to hear the words coming out of William’s mouth, so point blank and harsh. Expecting the worst of him. Quite correctly.

Shaun shifted his gaze to Lucy, who looked smug. She leaned against the wood door frame. Shaun clenched his hands into fists. This woman thought she could waltz in here and tell him what was and wasn’t real; what he could and couldn’t love. What gave her the _right_ to even come _here_. The first place that Shaun had felt accepted and valued in for years. This house on a little lake that housed the closest thing Shaun had ever experienced to a _family_.

And Desmond, the closest thing he had ever had to a partner.

Desmond-- who was suddenly there, as if sensing his distress. A warm solid hand on Shaun’s arm and glare harsh enough to make even Lucy flinch.

Shaun wanted to confess that it was all his idea, to take the offer and go back to England, save Desmond and his family from… Anything and everything.

Just as Shaun opened his mouth to speak, Desmond squeezed his arm to interrupt. Shaun shot him a look.

"What's going on? Dad? What did you say to her?"

"Only the truth, son. Ms. Stillman's been very accommodating. If you and Mr. Hastings here just tell the truth, no one has to go to jail. And isn't that best for everyone? For the _family_?" Shaun watched Desmond’s jaw tighten and that was the moment Shaun just _knew_ Desmond was about to do something incredibly stupid.

"There's nothing to tell.” Desmond snapped, “Sorry Dad, Lucy, but we're in love. And we're getting married. And the reason my dad thinks it’s all a sham is because he's not adjusting to the news very well. But let me assure you, I love Shaun. More than I'll ever love anything else."

Shaun felt his mouth dry up instantly. With a jolt, he realized that more than anything, he wanted Desmond to say those words and _mean_ them.

Shaun laughed and leaned into Desmond's warmth, wrapping his arm around his waist. "And it's not like this an unrequited thing." Shaun said, struggling to breathe through the sudden tightness of his chest, "I love Desmond so much that I..." He looked at Desmond's face- his dark eyes, his slightly hooked nose, his lips, the scar along them. He wanted so much to kiss him.

He leaned their foreheads together and let himself be completely honest for what felt like the first time in his life. "I love him more deeply than I've loved anyone. Ever."

Lucy pursed her lips and folded her arms. William scowled at his son.

"Desmond, _please_ , be reasonable."

"No _Dad_ ,” Desmond said, breaking their gaze, “why don't _you_ be reasonable? I finally have someone good in my life, how about you don't screw it up for once?" At this, Desmond stormed rather dramatically out of the barn. But he didn't storm out alone, because he was holding on to Shaun's hand. And he wasn't letting go.

Shaun said nothing as they power walked across the grassy yard in tandem, but when their bedroom door slammed shut his anger to broke loose. The instant it closed he rounded on Desmond, taking a measure of satisfaction when Desmond shuffled back half a step.

Shaun poked a finger into Desmond's chest. "What. The fuck. Was _that_ ," he demanded, jabbing harshly into Desmond's pectorals.

Desmond didn't say anything. He was looking at his feet.

"You _want_ to get deported all of a sudden?" he said finally, looking up to meet Shaun’s eyes. "That was me saving your job, okay?"

“Like you could give a _shit_ about my _job,_ Desmond! That was you insuring you still got your money and nothing more,” Shaun spat. Desmond was in this for the money and he needed to remember that. “You’ve been lying to them all weekend and for _what_? Money, Desmond.”

Shaun could see the rage building in Desmond and he took reckless pleasure that Desmond at least felt _something_ towards him.

That was, until Desmond grabbed the front of his shirt and suddenly it felt like all the air had been sucked from the room.

"I'm lying to them? _Me_?” Desmond’s voice was low, cutting. “Whose idea was this, Shaun? Did I come trotting up to you while you were minding your own business one day and demand you break the law?"

They were so close he could smell Desmond’s aftershave. Shaun could hear his own heart pounding in his ears.

“No, Shaun. I didn’t. So don’t you dare pretend that none of this is your fault,” Desmond said.

“Don’t insinuate that _I’m_ the sole reason your family is fucked up like this. Trust me. I know the symptoms, _Des_. You aren’t meeting daddy’s expectations and that puts a strain on the whole family. Trust me-- I would know.”

Something in Desmond’s eyes changed. The rage filtered away from them and just like that, the anger Shaun was feeling fell away too. Shaun’s chin tilted up and he opened his mouth to say something. Anything. Maybe an apology. Maybe something else.

Someone knocked at the door and without waiting for an answer Ezio called,

"I'm coming in! And everyone had better be decent."

Desmond let go of Shaun's shirt.

Shaun turned away and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Come on in Ezio." Shaun huffed, gritting his teeth and blinking back the stinging in his eyes.

"Desmond, I've come to steal Shaun away from you, so don't be too mad," Ezio said, stepping into the room and stretching up to wrap an arm around Shaun’s shoulders.

"Huh? Why?" Desmond asked, blinking blankly.

"Look I'm aware nothing about this wedding is going to be particularly god fearing, but at least for the night before you get hitched I'm not having you two share a bed," Ezio said. His tone was final.

Shaun couldn't help the sarcastic snort that slipped out. Yeah. Sharing the bed. And even funnier was the image of Desmond being mad that Shaun was being ‘taken away' from him.

"Yes, sure. Good idea. Why not have _some_ level of tradition in this wedding." Shaun said, still laughing. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow. Darling."

Desmond opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then he closed it again. Shaun followed Ezio out the door.

*******

"There's the blushing--other groom!" Ezio cried, bursting into the second guest room, his face split in a wide grin.

Shaun looked up from adjusting his cuff links. He was past the point of nervousness now, his chest an empty cavern. "Hi."

He was going to throw up. He shut his mouth and looked back to the mirror. He yanked his jacket down, trying to make it look acceptable.

"You look perfect," Ezio said softly. "Good enough to be my own son," he added, reaching out and adjusting Shaun's bow tie. "Welcome to the family." Then he led Shaun out of the room.

 _Well that settles it_ , Shaun thought resignedly, he was going to have to stop the wedding and tell everyone the truth. Ezio lead Shaun through the grassy area where Shaun and Conner had their confrontation. Shaun felt a wave of sadness when he realized he'd never know what Conner looked like grown up.

 _You have to tell them_ , he repeated as the barn doors swung open. _You can't spend your life lying to people you care for._

It would be too painful knowing Desmond was lying about all of it. Really he was just being selfish.

It was beautiful, Shaun observed, hung with fairy lights and white chairs laid out. They even rented a trellis. Ezio and Shaun walked together down the aisle, and Shaun realized belatedly Ezio was acting as his father and giving him away. It felt like being punched in the gut.

_You have to tell them._

He stood at the front of the aisle and turned to face everyone. Ziio was crying.

_Tell them._

Lucy was there in the audience. She tapped her watch, raised her eyebrow.

He opened his mouth.

"Everyone... You've been lovely to me. Really lovely." A whisper spread throughout the crowd. Shaun tugged at the cuff links pinned to his sleeves and let the truth spill out.

"I wish I had met you all under different circumstances but unfortunately I was born in England. And in a few days my visa will expire." Out of the corner of his eye Shaun saw Ezio sit heavily on one of the empty chairs on his side of the barn. "This whole marriage is a sham. It's all fake. Desmond doesn't love me, would never pretend to love me if I hadn't given him enough money to pay for Ezio's surgery."

He took a shaky breath and smiled just as shakily. His heart was pounding against his ribcage. "You have raised... The most amazing man. He's kind and smart and selfless and if I didn't feel like such _utter shit_ for lying to all of you I would have married him in a heartbeat."

Ziio had her hand over her mouth now. Conner was tugging at his bow tie, striped with blue and white. He was looking at his mom, worried for her.

"Ms Stilman, if the offer still stands I'll be waiting by your truck for you to drive me to the airport." And with that Shaun left the barn.

He only made it a few yards from the barn doors before he ran smack into Desmond's older brother. Altair was on the phone so he just kind of took a few steps away from Shaun, as if he hadn't noticed who it was bumping into him.

"What do you mean he's not going to make it back in time? This is _his_ wedding you know, he can't really miss the ceremony,” Altair enunciated into the phone.

Shaun froze. Then the anger flared in him.

Shaun stepped into Altair’s path, arms crossed tightly, and watched as he snapped the phone closed.

"Where is he," Shaun demanded. Imagine having the fucking _gall_ to leave your fake husband-to-be at the alter. This had better be the best excuse Shaun had ever heard. And Shaun was a lawyer. He knew all the best ones.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the barn right now?" Altair asked, pulling up the hood of his white sweater so his eyes fell into shadow.

"Yes. And so is Desmond. Where is he." Shaun wanted to give Desmond a piece of his mind in person. Over the phone it just wouldn't have the right effect. Shaun wanted to see Desmond's face while he made his excuses.

 _This really cinched it, didn't it?_ he realized suddenly. Desmond didn't love him. He would have showed up to their wedding if he did. A minuscule part of him had been clinging desperately to the idea that maybe... Maybe the feelings were returned. But this was the final nail in the coffin. There was nothing shared between them, not even friendship.

That stung quite a lot, actually.

"He's busy, ok? I'm going to pick him up. You go back inside and... Chat with people or something," Altair said, slipping his phone into his pants pocket and digging out a set of car keys. He walked past Shaun and climbed into the driver's seat.

Shaun gave a cheery wave to Lucy as she came out of the barn and he slid into the passenger seat of the car beside Altair. He folded his hands and waited for the car to start.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Altair asked, looking over at him.

Shaun buckled his seatbelt. He continued to stare straight ahead as Lucy started striding toward the car, looking ticked.

"Get out of my car, Shaun, I have somewhere to be," Altair said. It was almost a civil tone but there was a kind of angry impatience under it, like he was really out of time and really about to snap.

"So do I. And coincidentally we just happen to be going in the same direction. I suggest you drive before that woman claws holes in your tires." Shaun’s tone was conversational and pleasant. He was past being startled by Altair and his fierce abruptness. He was past being afraid of Lucy. At this point all he wanted was to get to Desmond and scream himself hoarse.

"Is there a way I can make you get out without physically injuring you?" Altair asked.

"No." Shaun said.

“How _much_ would I have to physically injure you?” Altair growled.

“More than Desmond would forgive.” Altair didn’t have to know Desmond hated him.

Altair took a really long breath in through his nose. Then he started the car and tore off down the driveway without even a backward glance.

Shaun allowed himself one smug smile before he settled into the seat and started scripting what he was going to say.

First, he'd confront Desmond about why exactly he felt the need to ruin Shaun’s life at every turn.

Maybe that was a little dramatic. He could start out casual: 'So Desmond, did you check your calendar today or..?'

Or he could just run full throttle into it, guns blazing and screaming.

There were so many choices really. A plethora laid out before him. Shaun glanced over at Altair, wondering if he should get some input from someone who had known Desmond longer. Altair looked like he was ready to yank out Shaun's teeth one by one if he even opened his mouth though, so Shaun gave that idea a miss.

Maybe he could walk up to him humming the wedding march.

The rest of the journey continued in this pattern, Shaun plotting and Altair silent with his hands clutched so tightly on the wheels his knuckles had gone white.

They pulled up to a warehouse, unassuming and painted grey. Altair shut off the car and climbed out.

"You should stay here," he said.

"Like hell I'm staying here, I've come this far." Shaun huffed as he climbed out of the truck. "I have a bone to pick with your brother and it's not going to wait." He strode towards the metal door, head held high. Altair grabbed the back of his jacket, dragging him back.

"Shaun. I'm serious. You should stay here."

"I _really_ don't think I should." Shaun said, voice hard and eyes cold. "I know you love your brother but he's being a real asshole, and I deserve to tell him."

Altair opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Then he opened it again.

"You know what? Fine. Follow me, captain insistent, and stay behind me." He pushed up his sleeves to reveal--some kind of bracer. It looked old. Then he strode through the door of the warehouse.

Shaun pushed away any second thoughts and strode quickly after Altair. As soon as he stepped inside he was surrounded by chaos on all sides. Clanging of metal on metal, people yelling, rushing back and forth in the din. Gun shots.

What did Shaun just walk in on?

*******  
Desmond was crouched in a corner trying to reload, fingers slipping over the bloody metal of his gun when he heard the door open and light spilled into the smoky chaos of the room. He peeked out of cover and, to his horror, saw Shaun backed up against the door and Altair diving into the fray without a care in the world.

He jumped from his cover and dashed across the warehouse, pausing only to stab an attacker in the neck and kick him to the floor. When he arrived at Shaun's side he grabbed his hand and dragged him into cover, crouched down behind some storage crates.

By the time the shock wore off and Shaun seemed to have registered Desmond present and tugging him like a poorly behaved dog they were already behind cover and relatively safe.

"So is your family mafia then? That explains a lot. The massive house, the Italian grandfather who owns _real_ da Vinci art. Your..." He gestured, "you-ness."

"Um, not quite," Desmond said. Seconds ago the adrenaline had him high as a kite, but now he was sagging. He fumbled with the gun again, finally managing to slide the pieces back in place.

"What are you doing here," he hissed.

"I’d like to ask _you_ the same! You should be at the altar! With me! So you could see me be all honourable and back out of the-" And then pain punched through his shoulder, and Desmond swore he could hear his flesh tearing, "oh my _god_. Desmond."

  
Desmond felt the ground slide away from his heels and he teetered forward. Suddenly Shaun’s hands were on his chest, stopping his fall. Steady, broad, and secure. "Des, I think you've been fucking _shot_."

"Yes, thank you, I've noticed," Desmond said, but he sagged as Shaun pulled at him. Gunshots echoed against the distant ceiling and he heard the distinct sound of Altair's blade unsheathing and then retracting.

"Fuck... _Des_. Okay just shut up okay.” Desmond wasn’t talking. “Just for once in your fucking life." He undermined his harsh words with a fluttering touch on the bridge of Desmond's nose, which felt broken. Again.

He trailed his fingertips over his cheekbone.

Desmond squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his lip. Altair came skidding into cover, reloading his gun. He froze momentarily, taking it all in.

"You know first aid?" He asked.

"Does it _look_ like I know first aid, fuck face?" Shaun bit out before he turned back to Desmond. "Now listen to me okay, Des? If you pass out you'll die from blood loss because no way any of us can lug your fat unconscious ass out of here." Dimly, Desmond realized Shaun was clutching Desmond’s hand to his chest. "And there's no way you're getting out of our fake wedding that easily."

“Okay. I have to go. But I’ll be right back.” Altair said and dived out into the battle again.

"Wasn't..." Desmond gasped for breath, feeling like there wasn't enough air in the smoky warehouse to fill his lungs. "Wasn't trying to get out of it."

Shaun sighed, "Desmond just.." Desmond felt Shaun’s hand brush against his forehead, hot against his skin.

"Don't worry about it now, I've already wired the money to your bank account."

"S'not the money. Dad told me--" Desmond winced, "my Uncle Mario offered to pay. I just wanted you to--” The world swam, Desmond struggled to stay above the flood.

"He did? When? I... Wait. You wanted me to what? Desmond!"

"I want you to be happy," Desmond mumbled. His eyes slipped shut and fluttered open again.

Shaun cupped the sides of Desmond's face and gently touched their foreheads together. One hand felt slick and Desmond's imagined his own blood as it slid against his cheek.

"I..." Desmond tried. The words wouldn't come. The world was without sound. Everything grayed out. Then his eyes slid shut.

  
Under the flood, Desmond could hear Shaun’s voice, distant but still recognizable: "Wake up, you son a bitch.” And then, still fading: “That's bloody fucking selfish."

****

"What in god's name is going on?" William asked. Altair and Shaun had hauled Desmond back to the lake house after a confusing and heated conversation about why hospitals were off-limits. Desmond dangled between Shaun and Altair stood in the front room of the house. Shaun reflected that the large open space was a lot more charming when he wasn’t contemplating dragging Desmond’s unconscious body across it.

"From what I've been able to figure out," Shaun said, "you're a family of assassins and Desmond skipped out on our wedding to get shot. So if you could help with that situation at all?"

“You _told_ him?” A small voice piped up from beside them; Conner appeared in the doorway seeming worryingly unfazed by the blood.

Before William could open his mouth to say anything else, Ziio came down the hall at a controlled run with Haytham at her heels. They bounded up the steps. William took a step forward. He looked kind of furious. Then he reached out, put a hand on the wall to steady himself.

"Is he breathing?" William asked, in a low, almost whisper.

Shaun grit his teeth and tried to remind himself not all dads were horrible human beings. Desmond's just wasn't the best, it didn't mean he didn't care about him.

"Yeah. He tried to take on a huge mob or something by himself."

As they hauled Desmond into the closest room Shaun could hear Ziio demanding supplies and Haytham rooting through the cabinets in hot pursuit of what she needed.

“I’ve got him from here,” Altair said, lifting Desmond’s weight away from Shaun who found himself pushed out into the hallway as Ziio returned. For a moment, he just stood there, blinking in the overhead light, feeling blood drying--tight on his hands. Then he felt a hand fall heavy on his shoulder.

When Shaun turned, William looked a little like he was going to fall over. He lowered himself into a nearby chair and dropped his head into his hands.

"Trying to get you to leave was probably stupid. But I was just... I was just looking out for him." He paused, took a long breath. "No. I wasn't was I? I was looking out for us. For the brotherhood. I kept telling him what he wanted instead of just asking."

Shaun laughed bitterly. "Look who you're talking to. I paid him for a green card marriage and convinced him to lie to his entire family." Shaun blinked against the burning in his eyes. "At least now I know I wasn't the only one who lied. Apparently he's a part of some ‘assassin brotherhood,” Shaun said, finger quotes and all. “So that's great.”

It was better to pretend everything was fine. It was easier to continue to be sarcastic and bitter if it meant that he could ignore his shirt growing cold and tacky with Desmond's blood clinging to him.  
William reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief which he wordlessly held out to Shaun. After a moment Shaun took it.

"Clean yourself off," he said. "You look terrible."

*****  
  
The door opened and Altair emerged, looking exhausted and tired. He was being pushed. Ziio's face appeared in the doorway.

"I said go to sleep. And _shower_. He's resting, you glaring at him for hours on end isn't going to help."

Altair mumbled probably some well chosen words under his breath and stumbled down the hall, bumping into a table as he went. It had been hours. Hours on end. Ziio looked down at Shaun, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, and her face softened a little.

"You want to see him?" she asked quietly.

Shaun looked up, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse from disuse, “Is he asleep?"

Shaun rocked on shaky legs when he finally got to his feet. He cleared his throat. By now he had made up his mind on a plan of action.

"More or less," she said, shrugging and pulling the door open a little more. "Just don't make too much noise."

Shaun nodded, "So he’s… is he going to be okay?"

He walked closer to the door. Closer to Ziio. Closer to where Desmond lay in bed, freshly sewn up.

"He's tough. He's not going to die," Ziio said. Then she ducked past Shaun and out into the hall. And it was either abandon Desmond in the room or go in.

Shaun took a deep breath and slipped into the room. He wanted to see Desmond, see his chest rise and fall with his own eyes.

He closed the door behind him, and when he turned to the bed he felt his heart clench. _Des_. Desmond's face was unnaturally pale, and even in sleep Shaun had never seen his features so slack. He looked younger. He looked... Tired.

Shaun settled himself carefully on the side of the bed. He looked up at the decorations in the room, various paintings scattered across the walls, mostly blues and greens. It was calming almost, or it would have been.

His hand brushed Desmond's, and it was unsettlingly cold to the touch.

"I'm leaving," he told Desmond, who was listening even less than he normally did. Somehow it still helped to say it out loud. "I'll never see you again, so don't worry about _that_."

He was quiet for a moment, still thinking. "For future reference, just a bit of constructive criticism. Make sure when you get in a fake relationship with someone you don't make them fall in _love_ with you. Because that's just rude. Also consider serving them tea when they _ask_ for tea."

Shaun took a steadying breath and stood, ignoring the shakiness in his legs when he walked out the door.

He went to their old room and collected his belongs. He wouldn't say goodbye to anyone besides Desmond, he had already decided that.  
  
*****  
When Desmond first woke up, the world was foggy and dim and someone was there. He thought Shaun for a moment but realized when they spoke it was Ziio, gently convincing him to go back to sleep.

The next time he woke up he was more aware. He blinked at a small spot of peeling paint on the wall, at the dead bugs on the window sill. Altair was there in a chair by his bed, telling him off for being stupid, taking a mission he knew he shouldn't, getting shot like a rookie. His voice was thick though, and he didn't look at Desmond when he said it. And before long he just reached over and took his hand and shut up. _You scared me_ , Desmond heard, even without Altair saying it.

Through it all though, something nagged at him. _Where was Shaun?_ It wasn't until the third time he woke up, when he was properly lucid, that he got up the courage to ask Ziio about Shaun.

"Shaun? Oh, Desmond. I’m sorry. He told us all the truth about the marriage and then… _he left_."

Ziio rested a hand on Desmond's knee. Desmond frowned, looking down at his hands. That didn't make sense. _In what universe would Shaun leave without getting the last word?_

"Welp, I guess that's for the best," he coughed out, trying to unclench his fists. The door banged open and Ezio walked in.

"How's my favourite grandson?" he asked. Then he stopped, his smile slipping. "Not so great, hmm?"

Ziio looked up. "He thinks Shaun leaving was 'for the best'," She informed Ezio, voice dry.

Ezio came over to sit down on the bed beside Desmond, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

"Desmond, I know right now you may think that letting Shaun go is for the best. But trust me when I say, if you care for him, you should tell him. I'm old, I’m gay, I know these things."

Desmond shook his head.

"I just can't, grandpa. I can't."

Ziio smiled and squeezed Desmond's knee, "I know it feels like that but you really can, Des. Take it from someone who actually went through with marrying an asshole-- it's not as bad as you think." She winked and then, her tone suddenly no longer joking, "I've seen you fake affection, Desmond. That's not what you were doing with Shaun."

"Ziio, I _can't_ , okay? It's just not meant to be. And besides, he's already back in New York. Soon he'll be back in England. There’s just no point.”

"Desmond you must keep hope and..." Ezio trailed off, a pained expression on his face.

"And?" Desmond asked.

"You must... Oh... My heart," Ezio groaned, clutching his chest.

"Grandpa?" Desmond gasped. Ezio keeled over onto him.

Ziio leapt to her feet and yelled for Haytham to call 911.

The emergency services had to fly in by plane to pick up Ezio, but they would only let Altair, William and Desmond on. And then Ziio, when she muscled her way in a little. Desmond could barely walk, but he’d be damned if he was going to let his grandpa die on his watch. Not after everything he’d lost already.

"Okay, everyone strap in for take off," one of the EMTs yelled. Ezio pulled the plastic mask off of his face.

"Desmond," he wheezed. Tears sprang to Desmond's eyes.

"Grandpa?" He asked.

"Promise me... You'll tell Shaun. Promise me," he gasped out dustily.

"I promise. Grandpa, I _promise_ ," Desmond cried.

"Good." Ezio said.

"Good?" William demanded. Ezio put the mask back on his face. Then he took it off again.

"You know I’m actually feeling a lot better. But why don’t we head back to the New York hospital anyways," he said with a wink. Desmond gaped.

Ziio stifled a laugh. "You've got to tell him _now,_ Desmond. You promised your dying grandfather!"

Desmond closed his mouth, opened it, then closed it again.

"I--are you serious? Grandpa!"

"What? You old bastard!" Altair cried. Ezio didn't even have the decency to look sheepish. And of course the EMTs were less than impressed. Desmond needed to sit down.  
  
*****  
Shaun strode into the coffee shop in his building for the last time, belongings in a box under one arm, his eyes glued to his new blackberry. He was reading over his letter of resignation--effective immediately.

"A large tea, two sugars and a dollop of milk," he said, without looking up.

He fired off the email and returned to booking his flight back to England. The steaming cup slid across the counter along with his change without so much as a word from the barista. Shaun grabbed the drink and headed for the door. He took a long drink of his tea--and froze.

"What. The. Bloody hell. This is _coffee_?" He whirled around only to see the barista grinning at him. A familiar barista.

".... _Desmond_?" His voice cracked.

"I'm on a lot of pain meds right now. I actually meant to give you tea there. But there's one thing I'm not confused about. I love you. And it was real between us. And I don't want it to end."

Shaun stared at the barista behind the counter.

"Desmond." The bottom of his stomach dropped out and his drink slipped from his fingers. "I..." He was frozen in place.

“Shaun, I know that I don’t really have the right to ask you to real marry me just so we don’t have to say goodbye yet--I mean maybe this friendship--this… something, isn’t worth that to you, but. I don’t know. Fuck.”

Shaun found himself mesmerized by his own shoes. He felt like he was being hit by a semi truck. Perhaps repeatedly.

“You want me to stay? _You_ , who didn’t even show up to our fake wedding, you want _me_ to stay?” Shaun crossed his arms tightly against his chest. “You, with the secret assassin family, you’re asking me now, to marry you, just so we can be… something.”

Desmond backed up from the counter a little.

"Uh, maybe let's not yell about that in this very public area," he mumbled. "So maybe I lied to you a little. I was trying to protect you."  
  
"A _little_ Desmond? I had to hold your bleeding body in a fucking _used_ Kia Sorento! The last time I saw you you were passed out from blood loss!" Shaun marched towards the counter. "None of that protected me, _Desmond_."

"Well, I mean, you weren’t _hurt_ , right?" Desmond tried.

"But you _were_ , Desmond." Shaun's hands clenched, "and I had nothing to prepare me for that."

Desmond stared at him.

"Oh," he said. He stepped back closer to the counter. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I'm sorry."

Shaun placed his hand on the counter. He took a deep breath. "Did you mean what you said?"  
His voice didn't falter.

"Of course I fucking meant it," Desmond said, and he reached across the counter and took a handful of Shaun's shirt, pulling him close enough that their lips were almost touching. Almost, like he was waiting to see if it was okay to make a move.

Shaun looked down at Desmond's hands tangled tight in his work suit and felt a surge of deep happiness. He grinned and looked up to meet Desmond's dark eyes.

"Well... Fucking good then." He said, before Desmond leaned across the tiny space between them and kissed him.

Shaun was frozen for a moment. And then it felt like Desmond had breathed life into him. Desmond brought his hands up to cup Shaun's neck, Shaun reached across the counter to pull at his apron. When they broke apart it was because a customer was waiting in line and finally got up the courage to clear their throat. Desmond wiped his hands on his apron shakily.

"We're actually closed, because my boyfriend and I need to go talk about his green card," Desmond said.

Shaun's face lit up bright red and he coughed. "Uh. Yes. Sorry about your coffee. It's not very good here anyway."

Tugging on Desmond's hand he lead them out of the shop quickly.

"You better not have meant that crack about the coffee," Desmond said. He didn't let go of Shaun's hand.

"Well I think all coffee is horrible so." Shaun tightened his grip for a second, "...Boyfriend?"

"Yeah, right?" Desmond said.

“Yeah, alright.” Then Shaun leaned over and kissed Desmond again.  
  
END  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LfVAFMixwzc
> 
> and with this final meme we bid you all goodnight our sweet princes, let flights of angels (dead desmond) sing thee to thy rest.  
> that is, until our much awaited remix, Proposal AU 2: Electric Pepaw, where we search replace every instance of Grandpa with... well, guess.  
> but seriously we love u guys xoxxo  
> \--Babbyspanch
> 
> Please await our upcoming machinima version  
> \--Milktooth


End file.
